Poor Little Rich Girl
by OtherLuces
Summary: Co-written with the fabulous BrodieBlue. Natasha was the kind of girl who dated nice boys in suits with law or business degrees. She never thought that she'd be interested in the "bad boy" types until she went to a wrestling show and saw Dean Ambrose live and in full color. A smutty story with stupid humor and an emphasis on humiliation.
1. Chapter 1

**When you put the weird brains of BrodieBlue and myself together...this is what you get. We're having a blast writing this and we hope you all enjoy it as much as we do. **

* * *

"Yes, Daddy, I get it. Money doesn't grow on trees."

Natasha sat cross-legged on the floor of her hotel room. It was a swanky place, but she felt that she deserved the best. It wasn't like she was really paying for it anyway. She sighed at her cell phone that sat next to her. She and her father had been arguing about money for the past twenty minutes via speakerphone while she had been making her sign for the Raw show that night. She had almost finished making the sign and had been finished with her father since the conversation had begun.

She added the final touches to her sign, some tastefully applied glitter to outline every letter of 'Ambrose smells', but she botched it when her father raised his voice on the phone. She was 24 years old and was still getting shouted at by her father!

"Daddy! There's no need to shout! You're messing up my sign!"

She might have heard her father then berate her for not putting her creative mind to better uses but she couldn't be certain he had said that as she wasn't properly listening to him. She folded her arms across her chest triumphantly to admire the finished sign after she had carefully wiped away the excess glitter that had oozed from her glitter glue on to the bold black letters. Dean Ambrose was bound to notice that sign, wasn't he? How could he miss it when she'd be sitting in the front row?

"Yeah, that'll show him!" she accidentally shouted out loud.

She could hear her father questioning what she was saying over the phone, but she decided to put an end to the conversation. It was just going in circles and she wasn't getting her way.

"Nothing, Daddy. Look, I have to go or I'll be late for the show. Love you!" She hit _end call_ and fell back onto the floor.

Sometimes it was hard being Daddy's little princess. Sure, she had always received everything she had ever asked for and he always paid her credit card balance, but lately he'd been asking questions and paying closer attention to her account. She really didn't like him prying into her life like that. She really loved wrestling and had always wanted to travel and follow the WWE around the country, maybe even the world. Her father didn't exactly approve of that venture.

"Whatever. I get to sit front row and yell at those dumb Shield guys. They're jerks." She sat up and gazed lovingly at her sign. "This will definitely put Ambrose in his place!"

It was a shame she had no one to go with, though. She didn't even have a very small brother or sister to take along. That would have been nice, but Daddy's new wife wasn't the type who would ever have children, so that was that. As for Natasha's own friends, her high school friends had long since abandoned her. All, if not a few, had settled down, married a nice boy and popped out a baby already. In her inner circle, that had been everyone's aim. They all feared that their parents would cut the apron strings and cast them out into the big wide world as soon as they graduated, so they needed to find a man to support them when they left school. But Natasha's father was so much kinder to her. He had not cut off his support and Natasha was different, anyway. For some reason, she had failed to hold down a boyfriend or a job, so things had to be like this for her.

The one advantage of always being alone though was that she could do whatever the hell she wanted. If she wanted to take a sign saying 'Ambrose smells' to Raw she could without fear of embarrassing whoever she was going with. She picked up the finished sign in her hands and gave it a kiss. She was so proud of her handiwork.

"Eww!" she cried when she realized she had left a glossy smear on it and hastily tried to rub it off. "Oh well!" she shrugged when it would not budge and made haste to leave the hotel before she cut it too fine on the time.

* * *

The show had been going on for about an hour now and the adrenalin and excitement was coursing through her body. Thankfully the crowd had been a good one and she was really getting into the show, surrounded by her fellow fans. When those six familiar words echoed around the arena, she felt a slight chill run up her spine. This was her time! She held up her sign above her head proudly and full of confidence. She noticed some people across the ring pointing at the sign and laughing, but she didn't mind. She was glad that other people appreciated her brilliance.

The Shield boys hopped over the barricade and were pacing around the outside of the ring as Raw cut to a commercial. She dropped her sign to the front of her chest while she waited for the cameras to start filming again. She had to make sure her sign got a lot of TV coverage so that 'Ambrose smells' could maybe become a hashtag on twitter. That'd be awesome.

She was looking down at her sign, checking to make sure that the glitter was staying on properly when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone was staring at her. She looked up and her eyes locked with that smelly jerk himself.

His small, pinched mouth twisted into a smile when she looked back at him.

"Yeah, you smell!" Natasha shouted loudly.

She heard the people around her laughing. They were laughing at Ambrose and the truth of her sign.

Now all three of The Shield were looking at her. _Yes!_ she internally yelled. She had pissed them all off so much she had got their attention. But she wasn't quite sure why they were all looking at her and smiling. She even saw Ambrose cup his hand around Rollins' ear and talk into it. Then Rollins broke away from him, putting a hand to his belly, he was laughing so hard. Perhaps they were laughing because Ambrose forgot to use deodorant today or something, so he actually did smell?

"I bet all three of you smell! I hate you, Shield!"

She noticed them refocus their attention away from her as the show came back from commercial. Minutes later, the match was underway and she was lost in the story of good versus evil, cheering the good guys and booing the bad guys.

At one point during the match, Ambrose had tried to interfere while he wasn't the legal man and got tossed out of the ring, hitting the barricade right in front of her. She stood up and looked down at him lying on the ground.

"You suck, Ambrose! Your hair is stupid!"

He looked up at her, his eyes narrow and his face contorted in pain, and she suddenly felt a small rush of butterflies in her stomach. Up close and in person, he was a pretty good looking guy, she realized. His eyes were oddly mesmerizing and she kind of actually liked his messy hair. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all.

"It looks OK today though," Natasha mumbled and actually lowered the sign she had been holding so high and so proud.

She looked away from Ambrose and felt her face blushing slightly. She hoped that Ambrose had heard her muttered half apology. He was a human being after all. She knew she would feel quite hurt if somebody told her she had stupid hair. So rather than act like a baby about it, she lowered her sign to prop it against her chair and reached over the barricade like everybody else was doing to pat his shoulder. He felt rather nice and warm. She then raised her hand to her nose and sniffed it. It didn't smell bad. Perhaps he didn't smell either!

She eased up on the Ambrose hate for the rest of the night, but she continued to hold her allegiance to the heroes. She just didn't get quite as vocal against the villains. In the end, The Shield boys won the match and she couldn't feel entirely sad about it. Sure, she was upset that the good guys didn't triumph over The Shield's so-called "justice", but she was glad that Ambrose didn't have a loss that night to pile on to the verbal abuse she had given him.

The rest of the show was a lot of fun and by the end, her throat hurt a bit from all that cheering and yelling. She decided to head across the street to a nearby bar after the show to wet her throat.

She pulled herself up onto a stool by the crowded bar and ordered herself a white wine spritzer. She had been sitting there for about an hour, playing on her phone and sipping her third drink, when a handful of the wrestlers plowed through the door.

She was the only person at the bar, and it seemed like in the entire place, craning her neck to see what wrestlers had filed in. She could not believe that there were no wrestling fans here! The place was only a street or so away from the arena.

She spotted Antonio Cesaro. He was another wrestler she did not like, being naturally drawn to the faces. He was also balding and she found that really unattractive in men. Then, oh no, was he with The Shield?! She lowered herself in her bar stool. She didn't want them to see her and remember that she had been the girl holding the 'Ambrose smells' sign! However, she still kept her beady eyes on them. She thought they would approach the bar immediately, but they did not. They stood by the door and she could see Ambrose gesturing around the place idly with his hand, then Reigns slapped him on the back and they all went in separate directions. That was odd. If she had any friends to go to a bar with she'd definitely want to sit with them! She thought she would be safe to get back to sipping her drink again, but she saw a tall figure approach from the corner of her eye. She caught a glimpse of black leather. Hadn't Ambrose been wearing a black leather jacket?

Sure enough it was him and he had sat on a bar stool right next to her. He was so close that if she moved her arm even a tiny bit, it would brush against his.

"Hi!" she said perkily.

Ambrose turned slowly. He sucked in his lips like he was on the defensive before turning his gaze fully on her, then the hostile look slipped from his face to be replaced by a slowly spreading smile.

"It's you. Sign girl," he said.

"Yeah. Sorry about those things I said at the show."

"Huh?" He raised his eyebrow. "Oh. The stuff about me smelling and my hair being stupid? I'll have you know that I smell amazing and my hair is wonderful."

"I know that now."

He took a long sip from the beer that he had ordered moments earlier. She leaned over and inhaled deeply near him, smiling at how fresh and clean he smelled. He must have showered very thoroughly before he came out to the bar.

He placed the beer down and looked at her, a bit stunned. "Did you seriously just sniff me?"

"Um…maybe?"

He put his head in his hand and she saw his body shaking lightly as he laughed.

"That's a new one."

"Would you mind if I bought you a drink to apologize for the things I said?"

"There's no need," he said, flicking his hand dismissively.

"Oh okay. Well I am sorry. Do you forgive me?" Natasha asked, hopefully.

He only frowned at her, but when she kept looking at him in wide-eyed innocence, he finally answered her.

"I forgive you," he said dismissively. He then downed the rest of his drink in one long gulp, as she watched his apple bob in wonderment. That was quite a cool trick. Then she saw him shift on his stool. Oh no! He was going to leave!

"One more Coors, please! No, make it two!" Natasha shouted at the bar man.

It really mattered to her that Ambrose forgave her. Ambrose didn't seem to appreciate the gesture, however.

"I'll get them," he said to the barman who was frowning at the rude way in which Natasha had placed her order.

"Please let me. It's a peace offering," Natasha smiled sweetly at him.

"I don't want you to spend your hard earned money on me. I don't mean to sound like a dick, but I probably earn far more than you. It's on me," he assured her.

"You're right, I don't earn anything at all," Natasha shrugged.

He took a small sip, but swallowed loudly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't have a job. I have a credit card that my Daddy pays for and I can buy whatever I want. So please, it's on my Daddy tonight."

She giggled at the end of her sentence. He turned his head to the side and rolled his eyes.

"Is that like a sex thing? Like you have a "Daddy" dom or something?" He asked as he swirled the beer around in the glass. "Although I don't know why he'd let you out alone to a bar," he mumbled under his breath.

"Huh?"

"Guess not then. Still, I can't make you use your Dad's money for these beers. But, uh…there might be another way you can repay me for those cruel things you said to me."

"Really? That would be great!"

"Give me a moment. I gotta go ask the other guys something. You stay here…cutie."

Natasha watched him walk over to Seth and Roman and she turned back to face the bar. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the bright red that had taken control of her cheeks. He had called her cutie! She never thought that she would get excited hearing that come out of his mouth, but he was just so handsome and that feeling of butterflies from earlier was starting to come back.

Natasha took fast sips from her beer for want of something to do while she waited. She ran over in her mind the ways she could repay him for being mean to him. Perhaps he wanted literal repayment, an interest-free loan for a big purchase maybe? Her Daddy was always giving people loans; that was his business apparently. When she was deep in such thoughts, she felt a warm heavy hand on her shoulder.

She turned to see that the owner of the hand was Dean. She could call him Dean, right? They were at least acquaintances now, perhaps even friends. She smiled up at him warmly and felt that now familiar flush spread across her face again when he smiled back at her.

"I need a smoke. Will you come outside with me?" he asked her.

"Sure!" Natasha was keen to agree.

"Awesome," he said and smiled again. Then he led the way through the crowded bar, but he moved pretty fast and not in the direction of the outback that she thought he would take a smoke in.

"Where are we going?" she shouted at his back.

In response, he looked over his shoulder at her, then held out his hand behind him. Natasha took it and she traipsed behind him out of the pub, through the front entrance and down the street.

"Dean," she said uncertainly, and repeated her question. "Where are we going?"

He turned around abruptly and she bumped into him. She felt the soft leather of his jacket against her cheek for a second and then jumped back a few inches. He pressed his finger against her mouth.

"Shhh…you'll see, little girl. I promise that you'll enjoy this. You just have to trust me. Do you?"

He softly rubbed his thumb across her lips and she could feel herself getting a little wet between her legs. She felt lost in those dreamy eyes and at that moment, she realized that she would probably say yes to anything he asked of her. She so desperately wanted to make things right between the two of them, even if they wouldn't ever see each other again after, so she knew what her answer had to be.

"Yes, Dean. I-I trust you."

He smiled charmingly and lightly pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb. "Good. I'm glad. Now keep following me, we're almost there."

After another minute of walking, he sharply turned down an empty alley between two buildings. There was a large lamppost right at the mouth, so the entrance was dimly lit. He pushed her against the cold brick, his warm chest pressed closely against her. He leaned his mouth in toward her ear and she could feel the hairs on her neck stand up.

"This is how you're going to repay me, cutie." He staggered backwards and leaned against the wall on the other side.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked dumbfounded.

"Come on, quit fooling around. You know what I mean," he said and beckoned her to him with his hand.

His meaning was still not clear to Natasha but it became very clear when he unzipped his jeans.

"It's very cold outside, though," Natasha said, gulping.

It wasn't that she wasn't willing to do that one day, but it was very soon, wasn't it? He'd only just met her. Why did he think she would give him a blow job already? She wasn't even the kind of girl who slept with guys on first dates. Surely there was some other way she could repay him.

"We'll soon warm up," Dean said huskily.

"People might see us though," she answered weakly. Her resolve to not do this was already buckling under his luminescent blue eyes that shone in the dim light the lamp was giving off.

"Only our shapes. And does anybody know you around here?" he asked.

Natasha shook her head.

"If anyone might be recognized, it's me," he said, smiling smugly. Then he pulled out his hard cock that had been forming a bulge in his jeans.

Natasha stared at it and closed her eyes against the sudden rush of hot warm fluid she felt coming out of her pussy. Deep down she knew she was going to leave this alley having sucked Dean Ambrose's cock of her own free will.

She slowly stepped toward him, her eyes glancing quickly to the street in hopes no one was nearby.

"That's a good girl," he purred when she was finally right in front of him.

He had been slowly stroking his cock with one hand and he took his other hand, grabbed her shoulder and pushed her hard to her knees. He held his cock out toward her mouth, and when she didn't immediately wrap her little pink mouth around his aching shaft, he rubbed the head against her lips, trying to encourage her to act.

She tilted her head up and looked at him with her big brown eyes and he nodded at her. She opened her mouth a little and flicked out her tongue at the head of his cock.

"That's it, take it in your mouth," he coaxed in a deeply rough voice that, for some reason, made her want to make him happy.

She slowly slid her entire mouth down his length. He was thicker than she was used to and he stretched her lips to the point of them hurting a little bit. She heard him sigh and lightly stroke her hair, which made her so happy and turned her on even more. She began to move her head back and forth, her mouth sliding up and down his cock. She placed one hand on his thigh to steady her and slipped the other up her skirt to feel just how wet she really was.

The gusset of her panties was soaked through. She knew this was turning her on, but she had no idea she liked it _that_ much. She heard Dean grunt from above her.

"What are you doing? Are you touching yourself?"

Before Natasha could answer, she felt him tighten his fingers in her hair and push her head further down on to his dick. She screwed up her eyes and tried to resist the strong urge to gag when she felt him force his cock like a ramrod into her mouth. Unable to control the urge, she spluttered and he pulled her off his dick by her hair. The hair pulling hurt, but it was nothing compared to how badly she needed to breathe in lungfuls of cold air. Her wet mouth gaped open and she allowed the saliva that had built up in her mouth as she had been sucking him off to slide down her chin. She looked up at him and hoped he found the sight erotic.

"You're a dirty bitch," he growled.

"What?!" Natasha answered him in shock.

She was not used to being spoken to like this, especially when she was in the middle of giving a blow job.

"You heard me. You're drooling, dribbling all down your chin. You look like a fucking dog!"

Natasha flinched at his hard words."I'm sorry," she answered quietly.

She was afraid that she had disappointed him, that he did not like this repayment. He had been so nice before, she wasn't sure she liked this new side of Dean...

"Suck my dick," he ordered her. "And touch your pussy."

Had he forgiven her mishap then? Natasha gripped his jeans with her left hand and wiped the back of her offending mouth with her right hand before latching onto his dick again. She then pushed her right hand under her panties and stroked her slit. She gasped at how sensitive she was. If she had been in any doubt that she wasn't enjoying this, those doubts had now been driven away.

A faint moan escaped from her throat. She had never felt this good with any of her previous boyfriends. There was something about this man that caused her body to react in a very different way. She just couldn't quite put her finger on it. Her moans became louder and more frequent. She was no longer thinking about how anyone could walk past and see them right now. She felt like she was in a porno and she was acting accordingly.

Without warning, Dean pulled her mouth off of his cock again and smacked her on the side of the head.

"The fuck is wrong with you? Stop moaning like a fucking whore. If I wanted to hear you moaning right now, I wouldn't have my dick down your throat, now would I?"

He smacked her aside the head one more time before gripping the back of her head and thrusting into her mouth once again.

She returned to playing with her slick pussy while he thrust in and out of her pink lips, with only the occasional soft, quiet moan sneaking out. He didn't seem to notice or care about those. After a moment, she decided to look up so that she could see the look on his face. He had been quiet for a while, so she imagined that he had his head tilted back and his mouth open in a state of bliss.

What she saw was him playing on his phone. She stopped abruptly, causing him to look down at her with an annoyed look.

"Keep going," he said in a tone that insinuated that she was an idiot.

She started up again, but kept her eyes fixed on him. His eyes glanced over at the alley opening and he smiled and gave a nod of his head before going back to looking at his phone.

Why would he smile and nod his head? She thought. Then it came to her.

"Did you see someone?!" she pulled away from his cock to ask in astonishment.

"Uh huh"' he nodded and didn't take his eyes off his phone. It was like he didn't even care that they had just been seen doing something sexual.

"Are you gonna get back to work?" he asked, looking up from his phone when she did not 'get back to work' after he had answered her question.

"Don't you care? They might have seen me!" she said in anguish.

"Does that bother you?" he asked.

He seemed much more interested in her now and was now holding his phone casually by his side in his right hand.

"Of course it does!" Natasha said, but she hissed the words quietly, afraid that people would hear her too.

"Then you shouldn't suck guys' cocks down alleyways should you?" He then grabbed his neglected cock in his left hand and slapped her in the face with it. "Should you?" he asked again.

Natasha's face was burning, even in this cool evening air. "No," she answered, so quietly that it was a wonder he could hear her.

"You should be very ashamed of yourself," he said, shaking his head and curling his lip in disgust.

"Do you want this to be over?"

Natasha refrained from giving any answer.

"Of course you don't!" he snorted, then grabbed her hair again and pushed her back down on his cock. "Now make me cum."

She hesitated for a second. There was a battle between her good girl image that she always tried to maintain and her obvious carnal lust for this strange man in front of her.

Lust won. She could worry about sweeping this under the rug later. Daddy knew some important people, so if this turned out to cause some problems, he could help out his little princess.

She tightened her lips around his dick and began to work much faster than before. She had seen his angry side and didn't want to invoke it any further. She wanted to see that cute nice guy side she had briefly seen in the bar. She wanted him to pat her on the head and tell her that she was a good girl. Her hand returned to its position between her legs, her fingers swirling tight circles around her swollen clit. She enjoyed sucking his cock, but she wished that he would pick her up off the ground, wrap her legs around his waist and fuck her hard against the brick wall.

She was a bit stunned by these thoughts, honestly. She had never really had such a depraved mind around other boys. There was an aura about Dean Ambrose. She had never realized it watching him on TV. He was just a bad boy jerk type, which honestly wasn't what she was normally attracted to. She liked clean cut boys in suits who went to law or business school. Those were the kinds of boys who could take care of her and be a good father to their children. Not a scrappy slacker like Ambrose. But when she was near him…she just couldn't think clearly any more.

"Fuck! Oh Fuckkkkk! You keep doing that! Yes! Like that!" Dean burst out.

At first Natasha had listened to every outburst, trying to preserve it in her mind for when she would next want a bad man's attention because she promised herself she would not do this again. She would continue to date good boys and she'd draw on her memories of Dean when their gentle caresses could not get her to that place she wanted to get to.

After much hard work Dean pushed Natasha away, nearly making her fall back on her heels, but she managed to stay on her knees, though it was tempting to lean back. Her knees were aching and when she looked down at them she saw they were scrapped and red raw, on seeing that she became aware of the throbbing sting in them. Her tights were bound to be ruined. What would she look like by the time she left this alley?

Then Dean's hand was back in her hair again and he was holding his dick, pointing it in her face. She squeezed her eyes closed, suddenly realizing what he was going to do. She didn't know whether she wanted it to happen or not. She had never taken a face full of cum before, but right now she thought she would do anything. Anything to perhaps earn herself a reward at the end of this. She needed him to fuck her, to touch her. She'd never been so wet.

He pumped his hand back and forth over his cock a few times until he came, groaning out obscenities as he did. His warm sticky semen splattered onto her face and she could feel it slowly dripping down her cheeks. She could smell his cum and she found it oddly intoxicating. She always hated the smell of sex. It was so vulgar and dirty and it seemed to get everywhere, but right now she was so far gone in her arousal that she didn't give a fuck anymore.

She dipped a finger into his cum and sucked the finger into her mouth. The thought of tasting a man's semen had always made her gag, but she wanted to taste him. She wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but he tasted delicious. She quietly moaned as she sucked on her finger.

She was surprised when a bright light suddenly flashed in her face. She looked up and saw Ambrose smiling and holding his phone above her.

"Good girl. Just beautiful, darlin'," he said with a wink in her direction. She was too busy blushing from being winked at to completely register his next sentence. "The boys will love this one."

She smiled back at him and bit her lip, hoping that he'd help her up and give her a reward for being such a good girl. Instead, he mussed her hair and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and heading toward the street.

"Thanks for that. Take it easy….whatever your name is."

"It's Natasha, Dean."

"Mmmkay. See ya, Natalie."

"Hey wait! Have you got any tissues?!" Natasha yelled at Dean's retreating back.

So much was whirling through her mind. That she had just given a man a blow job in an alley, but not just any man, Dean Ambrose. Then he'd left her there without giving anything back in return, all alone. She had no idea how to get back to the bar they had left together, her face was covered in cum, and her knees were bloody. If she did know how to get back, she wouldn't want to be seen like this anyway. Suddenly she felt very alone. She wished she had someone, but the only person she had was her Daddy and he'd be ashamed to see her like this. She was so scared that she started to cry. She hid her face in her hands and slumped back to her knees on the hard concrete ground.

"I don't have any tissues, but why don't we use your tights," she heard Dean say, just when she thought she would be here alone all night, frightened and lost.

He was a savior. Just what she needed. She just nodded her head obediently at his suggestion. It was always easier to let someone else make decisions for her. When she made no move to take them off though, she heard Dean let out a sigh before putting his hands up her skirt and pulling them down from around her hips.

"You can do the rest yourself," he said when he tugged them down to the middle of her thighs.

Her knees stung when the tights became unglued from her scrapes but she kicked off her shoes and took the tights all the way off so that she could get to work making herself look presentable again. Dean stood by her with his arms folded and looked down at her while she wiped her face. She would occasionally look back at him and smile, but he never smiled back. He only frowned even more.

"How are you getting home?" he asked her when she balled up her ruined tights and threw them into the gutter.

"I'm not going home. I'm staying in a hotel-"

Dean cut her off impatiently.

"Then how are you getting to the hotel?"

"I was going to get a cab."

"I'll walk you to the cabs," he said, giving her a good look over before walking away from her again.

"You're more trouble than you're worth," he threw at her over his shoulder while Natasha had to jog to keep up with the pace he was setting.

They walked up to the main road, where the cabs waited this late at night. It was an eerily silent and uncomfortable few minutes, especially after the scene they were walking away from. As she slowly jogged beside him, a flood of thoughts raced through Natasha's mind. Was he really a nice guy because he didn't abandon her when she asked for his help and right now he was escorting her to the cabs? Or was he a horrible guy because he had been planning to leave her there in the first place? He also took a picture of her with his cum on her face, which she imagined had not been a very flattering photo. Maybe he was a little of both and things weren't always completely black and white?

She had to leave those questions be for the moment when they reached the main strip. He knocked on the window of one of the cabs, jerking the driver out of his bored stupor. The driver nodded and Dean opened up the door to let her inside. He put his cigarette between his lips and made a large gesture into the car with both of his hands. She stepped toward the cab and stopped before she got inside. She turned and looked at him, smiling.

"Thank you for your help," she said meekly.

She raised her head up and stood on her toes, trying to hint at the fact that she was open for a kiss goodnight. That was always the ritual she had whenever she was leaving an intimate situation. That was just proper manners, right? When he just stared back at her with no reaction whatsoever, she got the hint and quickly got into the cab.

"Will I ever see-?" she started asking, but was cut off when he quickly shut the door. He gave the driver a head nod and turned to head back to the bar.

The driver stared at her through the rearview mirror until he got her attention.

"Oh. Sorry, sir. The Hilton, please."

The cab pulled out into the street, heading toward the hotel

"I wonder if I'm ever going to see him again," she pondered under her breath.

But of course, she would.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello and thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed! These next few chapters get a little weirder (sexually, of course), as some other characters are thrown into the mix. We hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

But of course, she would, the very next night, in fact. She had considered making a new sign for the Smackdown taping, one that would've said "Thank you Ambrose" so that she could let him know that she was appreciative of him not abandoning her in the alley and walking her to the cabs. It's not like she could properly send him a thank you card, so a sign at the show seemed like it would be the next best thing. She decided against it though, as it wouldn't really make much sense on TV.

She did want him to see her though, and having a sparkly sign with her would make her stand out more. However, she was running out of time to come up with a better idea. She had left so little time on Tuesday evening to get ready that she had to choose between making a new sign and making herself look nice. If she hoped to spend some quality time with Ambrose alone again then she had better pretty herself up instead.

She was in the front row again, naturally. She wouldn't settle for anything less. However this time, she was on the opposite side of the ring. She waited all night for the appearance of the Shield, and she was rewarded for her patience when they came out for the main event of the evening. As the three of them slowly swaggered around the ring, Natasha was disappointed to see that Ambrose hadn't noticed her. She'd just have to cheer and boo particularly loudly tonight so that he knew she was there!

The Shield seemed to be dominating their competitors at the start of the match until Ambrose made his second tag into the ring and now he was getting the shit beaten out of him. Natasha started chewing her nails and jumping up and down on the spot with nervous energy.

"Come on, Ambrose!" she whispered under her breath, yet everybody around her was cheering on his face competitors.

She felt she must drum up some support for him so she slapped the barricade in front of her hard and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Let's go, Ambrose!"

Then she slapped her hand down on the barricade again a few more times in fast succession before repeating the chant. Much to her delight, other people around her on the front row started to take up the chant. She found that odd though, since he WAS a heel. She was only cheering him on because she knew what a nice guy he really was underneath it all.

He was thrown hard into the corner closest to her and proceeded to fall to his knees and press a hand to his back. While he was on the ground, he turned his head to the outside of the ring and looked out into the crowd. Natasha couldn't be quite sure, but she thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes…and was that a look of disgust?...before he scrambled toward the Shield's corner and dove to make a tag to Seth.

* * *

After the show, she had gone to the closest bar just like she had the previous night, hoping that eventually Ambrose and the other wrestlers would show up and she could quickly thank him before going back to her hotel room. After waiting for two hours, she gave up and went back to the hotel, feeling defeated.

When she entered the hotel, she could hear a lot of noise coming from the bar at the end of the lobby. That was a bit odd for a Tuesday night, but maybe some wrestling fans had retired there after the show and had been served too much. She hit the elevator button and while she was waiting, her curiosity got the best of her and she decided to go take a peek inside.

A slow smile lightened her face when Natasha saw who was making such a racket. Tonight had turned out to be her lucky night after all. There were no wrestling fans there, apart from the girl sitting in the midst of actual wrestlers, if she could even be called a fan. They weren't just random wrestlers either. _He _was there, her new special, most favorite wrestler - Dean Ambrose! Her first glimpse of the rowdy scene at the bar also took in Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Antonio Cesaro, Wade Barrett and, oddly enough, CM Punk. She tottered closer on her wedges excitedly to greet Dean, but she hadn't decided how to approach him yet. That look he'd given her when he had been in the ring, whatever it was, hadn't filled her with confidence that he would actually be as pleased to see her again as she would be to see him. But the closer she got, the more she realized that there was something off about what was going on here. The girl who was with them could hardly sit up straight in her chair and her speech was obnoxiously loud and slurred. She was clearly drunk. Natasha backed away. She should get security. You weren't supposed to get that drunk in a hotel. She could bother other guests, she might be a danger to herself, she might be in danger ...

"Hey! Is that you?" one of the wrestlers shouted at her just as she turned her back. "Is that alley blowjob girl?!" She saw that it was Seth Rollins when she stopped to look over her shoulder.

Natasha froze in place. Why did he…? How could he…? Maybe she heard him wrong? Her eyes darted back and forth in panic. What should she do? Her embarrassment and desire were fighting and all she could do was stand there hesitating.

She saw Seth lean over and say something to Ambrose, who glanced at the drunken girl, said something to the group, and then stood up. He approached Natasha slowly, perhaps cautiously, as if she was going to launch herself at him and never let go. Her eyes were fixed on his, but she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the other men were helping the drunken girl up and out of the bar. Dean really was a gentleman, wasn't he? He had told the boys to help the drunken girl to a cab so that she could get home safely.

"Hey. Fancy seeing you again," he said, cocking his head to the side.

"Hey!" Natasha replied enthusiastically.

She felt her face pull into a smile when he spoke to her, but the greeting felt so dry considering what they had done last night. She wanted him to kiss her and take her in his arms so much that she reached out a tentative hand and gave his arm a pat, which turned into a half-stroke. Even Natasha realized how awkward it looked. She knew she often misjudged these types of things. Dean watched her hand make its movements over his arm and the look on his face suggested that far from feeling disgusted by her touches he found them ... amusing? Natasha dropped her hand, feeling slightly embarrassed, and then Dean seized her wrist. The sudden movement made her gasp, but she felt much more relaxed when he gently moved his hand up her arm, rested it on her shoulder, and turned her around with a push to face the exit of the bar. He settled his hand in the small of her back and started walking and Natasha, hardly believing her luck that he wanted to chat somewhere more private, walked with him.

"Did you enjoy the show?" he asked as they walked.

"Yeah it was awesome!" She smiled at him by her side.

"Good," he replied shortly.

"Hey...where are you taking me?" she then thought to ask.

"You'll see," he winked.

They went right to the elevator that Natasha had been going to get into but had abandoned in favor of checking out the bar. She was so glad she had because now look who was standing beside her!

"You want to please me, don't you?" he asked after pressing the button of the elevator. He turned to her, piercing her with a look that felt like it could see right inside her very soul.

"Yes, Dean! It's only right to thank you for helping me out last night after my…um…apology." Her face began to glow crimson.

"Cool. I think you should start calling me Mr. Ambrose, okay Nancy?"

"Okay, but my name is Natasha," she tried to say, but the elevator landed on the ground floor and the bell that sounded when the door opened drowned out her name. He stepped inside and turned around, crooking his finger and beckoning her to follow him.

The ride up was silent and uncomfortable. She wanted to say something to lighten the mood, but she wasn't sure what to say. Was he bringing her back to his hotel room? She felt her face heat up again as her mind raced with all sorts of dirty thoughts. They finally reached his floor and he grabbed her wrist again as he dragged her out into the hall.

He paused when they reached the door at the end of the hall. He cupped both his hands around her face and bent down so that he was at her eye level.

"You need to promise me that you will not speak of anything that happens in here, got it?"

She understood. As much as she would love to tell the world that she had sex with Dean Ambrose, discretion was important for a man in his position, and honestly, she wouldn't want word of this somehow getting back to her father either. She nodded her head and couldn't hide her smile.

"Fantastic." He slipped the keycard into the slot and slowly opened the door. She was not prepared for what was waiting for her inside.

The drunk girl that had been with the wrestlers downstairs was now lying on her back on what Natasha could only assume was Dean's, or Mr. Ambrose's, as she was now supposed to call him, bed with her legs parted. But that was not the worst of it. Her hand was between her legs and she was rubbing herself. The men were dotted about the room, leering at her or egging her on. All of them, bar one of course, had a drink in hand and looked like they were having a good time.

"Why have you brought me here?" Natasha asked Dean shakily. He had left her side and found a place for himself on an arm of the couch.

"Come here, don't be frightened," he beckoned her with his hand, ignoring her question.

She should have left the room but he spoke to her so gently and reassuringly that she slowly approached him. She ignored the vulgar staring of the other men who watched her as she passed and stopped in front of Dean. He put his hands on her hips, turned her around and pressed her onto his lap. She sat there stiffly and he kept her perched on his knee by firmly holding her there. He then put his mouth to her ear and sent a shiver through Natasha's body as he spoke to her.

"Look at that girl," he ordered.

"I am, Mr. Ambrose," she answered.

As much as she wanted to look away, she couldn't peel her eyes off of the woman in front of her. Perhaps it was because she was frightened and nervous about what was going on in here and more importantly, what was going to happen to her.

"Good girl. Now tell me, what is that bitch doing?"

Natasha's face, which had been pale ever since she stepped into the room, was now flush.

"She's touching herself."

He suddenly pinched her other ear hard between his fingers. "I am not pleased with that answer. Try again, sweetcheeks."

She heard some stifled laughter from the other men. She desperately glanced back and forth between them, searching for some sort of answer as to what she should say to please him. She finally gave up and turned to look at Ambrose, her mouth hanging open and a worried look in her eyes. He grabbed her head and turned it sharply back toward the naked woman before bringing his lips up to her ear once more.

"You're a smart girl, right? _Describe_ to me what she is doing. I want to hear it come from that pretty little mouth of yours that I so enjoyed last night." He dragged his index finger across her lips as he whispered to her.

That slight touch made her breath come out in shudders. It was so hard to come up with an answer she thought he would like when he was making it difficult to concentrate on anything but him.

"She's putting her fingers inside herself," she finally said after watching the girl in discomfort for a moment.

"Yeah, what else?" Ambrose asked. She then felt him slowly move his warm hand up her skirt.

"Now she's took them out...and she's touching her clit."

Her face grew hot when she named that most intimate little spot. She gasped when Ambrose rewarded her for her answer by edging his hand further up her bare thigh until his thumb traced her bikini line.

"How is she touching that clit?" he murmured in her ear.

"Fast," Natasha panted.

He'd slipped his hand beneath her skimpy panties and was feeling her, but not touching her hot wet core. He felt around her neat bikini line and stroked her soft pussy lips, but didn't touch her right where she wanted to be touched. Suddenly, he tore his hand away from her and cursed.

"Dumb Fuck!"

Natasha snapped her eyes open and for one crazy moment, she had thought he had been calling her that. However, now it was quite obvious that he had insulted the other girl because everyone was looking in her direction and jeering at her, and she could see why. She had spilt her drink all down her front.

Dean pushed Natasha to the floor as he stood up and moved toward the bed. Upon further inspection, Natasha realized that the naked girl had passed out, which was why she had dropped her drink all over her. He stood by the side of the bed and smacked the girl's face. There was no response. He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her upright.

"Roman, what the fuck, man? You were the one who found her, so you were in charge of making sure the bitch didn't drink so much that she was going to pass the fuck out!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know how much she had already had before she joined us. I thought she could handle her liquor better!"

Ambrose rubbed his forehead in frustration and made an irritated grunt. He nodded at Seth and the two of them picked her up and carried her to the door. CM Punk had jumped up to go open the door for them and then went to grab her clothes as the two men placed her on the floor right outside the room. Punk handed her clothes to Dean before going to sit back down. He dropped the clothes on top of her sleeping form and shook his head in disgust.

"That's why the dumb bitch shouldn't have drunk in the first place. Maybe she'll learn her fucking lesson next time," Punk said, leaning back in his chair.

Dean shut the door behind him and returned to the main part of the room. He stood facing Natasha and cracked his knuckles as he stared her down. It was at that moment that she realized that all six of the men were now focused on her.

Natasha scrambled to her feet. She felt pretty stupid lying on the floor where he had left her. Then out of nowhere, for seemingly no reason, Dean slapped her across her face pretty damn hard. She squealed and immediately put her hand to her stinging cheek. She heard the other men let out a chorus of "ohhhh!" and surprised laughs at what Dean had just done to her.

"That was for standing up without my permission, and to cheer me up. I feel a lot better now," Dean said to sniggers from the other men. "Nothing calms me down more than slapping a bitch."

He had just slapped her and called her a bitch. What had gotten into him?! She looked up at Dean through hurt eyes.

"What?" he asked. Then he crouched down, making himself her height again. "Are you gonna slap me back?"

"No, I'd never hit you," Natasha automatically answered. The thought of hurting him had never even crossed her mind.

"Good girl. You're already a lot more disciplined than some of the bitches these guys have brought to me."

She looked at him, confused, but chose not to pry further into his comment just then. This wasn't the time for it.

"Now you do realize the situation you're in right now, yes?" She stared at him blankly. "Okay, darlin'," he said, softly stroking her cheek with his hand. "As you just saw, my other toy broke, so now I don't have anything to play with tonight. But as luck would have it, you found me again, so the whole night isn't ruined. You want to please me, right? Would you like to be mine tonight?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

His eyes looked so gentle as he spoke to her that she only paid half attention to the words that came out of his mouth. All she really registered was him asking her if she would be his that evening. She was already rather wet from when he had been touching her earlier, but she felt her body heat up again at the thought of Dean Ambrose naked on top of her. She blushed and grabbed at the hem of her skirt.

He lightly traced a finger up the inside of her thigh until he reached her covered pussy again. He could feel the moist heat radiating from her. She whimpered softly and he smirked.

"Do I take that as a yes?"

She nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. "Are the other guys going to leave though?" she asked innocently.

He cocked his head to the side and laughed. "Why would they leave?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but he covered her mouth with his and her brain short-circuited. He pulled back and smiled. "Now go kneel on the bed for me."

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," she nodded.

"Mr. Ambrose?!" She heard Wade Barrett repeat her, though she could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn't mocking her, it was said as a question to Dean.

"Ignore him," Dean said to Natasha and offered her a hand to help her up. Natasha took it and he pulled her up with ease, of course. He was big, strong and soooo manly. "He just wasn't brought up to be as polite as you and I are," he said.

The whole room laughed and Natasha smiled with them. Wade Barrett did seem like an uncouth, rough man.

"You haven't forgotten your instructions already have you?" Dean asked her gently, but there was a hard edge to his tone which made her instantly go to obey his previous instruction.

She tried to ignore the other men's hungry faces as she made her way past them and went to the bed. They made her feel so uncomfortable and she would rather them not be here. If she was Dean's plaything, then why did they have to hang around? She wasn't sure how Dean wanted her to kneel on the bed so she turned her back to the men and got on the bed on all fours. That way she didn't have to look at them and feel embarrassed and she thought Dean might like seeing her in that position. Her only aim was to make him happy after all. Someone liked her in this position anyway because she heard a wolf whistle. The next thing she heard was someone approach her and she hoped it was Dean, though she didn't want to look over her shoulder in case it wasn't. She then felt a hand rub her backside.

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind," Dean said.

Then he brought his hand down on her cheek with a hard slap, the sound of which reverberated through the room.

"Ow! That hurt!" Natasha complained, twisting her head around to scowl at him. She didn't expect to see him smiling at her.

"That's what you get. You should be thankful that I didn't slap that ass harder. Do you guys think she should thank me?" His eyes never left hers as he addressed the room. His question was met with a murmur of 'yes'.

Her scowl softened and she blushed. She wasn't really sure why she should be thanking him, but she loved the way she felt when he praised her, so she gave him what he wanted.

"Thank you, Mr. Ambrose."

"That's my good girl. Now strip down to your bra and panties, then face me and sit on your heels. I want to get a good look at what you've got under there."

"I bet it's pink and lacy, huh?" Seth chimed in.

"That's what I'm hoping for," Dean replied as he slowly rubbed his large hands together. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and she started to unbutton her blouse. "I love to devour innocence."

Their comments made Natasha glad of her choice of underwear today. Her matching bra and panties were indeed pink, trimmed with lace and even adorned with hearts, ribbons and bows. But that comment Dean had made about devouring innocence had unsettled her, especially as she didn't really understand what he meant.

She felt even more disquieted when she got off the bed to get undressed.

"You look like you really do want to eat me," Natasha said to Dean.

"I'm surprised you understand what the word 'devour' means. I'm impressed. Now get undressed," he said. His face looked quite different when he said that though.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ambrose," Natasha murmured again as she continued to unbutton her top.

So far she felt like she was doing a very poor job of pleasing Dean. She'd tried to make a joke with him and she had just annoyed him. Thank god she had worn underwear he would like. She heard the men mutter to each other and the odd laugh as she revealed more and more of herself which made her feel rather uncomfortable but she kept reminding herself that she was doing this for Dean. When she had stripped down to her underwear and knelt on the bed the way Dean had asked her to she looked to him for his approval. The smile on his face told her that he liked what he saw.

Then he turned his smile to Seth. "Is that pink and lacy enough for you?"

She let her eyes slowly glance over at Seth, whose smile had become quite lecherous.

"It's perfect, man. I hope the rest of her is just as pink."

"I've yet to see it myself, but I bet it's beautiful," Dean replied, causing Natasha's eyes to snap back forward. "Tell me, darlin', how many men have you fucked?"

Natasha's eyes widened at his bold question. She had never been asked something like that before from anyone, let alone a stranger, and in front of other people, no less! She ran through her brain all of the different boyfriends she had had over the years. She went through boyfriends rather quickly and had never actually had full-on sex with some of them.

Dean slapped her across the face when she didn't answer quickly enough for his liking.

"Uh! Five, Mr. Ambrose!" Her response was met with some "ohhhh"s from the men.

"Five, huh? How old are you?"

"I'm 24, Mr. Ambrose."

"You're 24 and you've fucked five guys? Do you think you're a slut?"

"I…no…they were all boyfriends," she answered timidly.

"It's okay guys. They were boyfriends, so she's not a slut." He crossed his arms across his chest and stared intensely into her eyes. "So how many strange cocks have you sucked in alleys?"

"None! I mean…well…there was you."

He leaned forward so that she could feel his breath on her ear. "I want you to tell the boys how fucking wet you were while you sucked my dick."

She burned up at the memory and tilted her head down out of embarrassment. "I was so wet that I soaked through my panties. It was the wettest I had ever been, Mr. Ambrose." She peeked up through her eyelashes and saw a cocky smile spread across his face.

"And how wet would you be if I told you that I was going to eat your pussy until you came for everyone?"

Natasha could feel herself getting incredibly wet at that prospect.

"I'd be very, very wet Mr. Ambrose," Natasha said. She felt her face flush when he looked at her intensely, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

"Are you soaking through your panties again"' he asked, then he rubbed his hand up her thigh and Natasha slightly parted her legs which she had closed together very tightly.

"That's a good girl," Dean laughed and moved his hand into the space she had made for him.

"Oh you slut," he said as he rubbed his hand over her panties.

Natasha felt herself pulsing against his warm hand and she pushed her groin forward, encouraging him to go further. He did so by hooking his fingers in her panties and sliding them down from her hips. The murmurs of approval from the room reminded her that there were other men here and she suddenly put her hand down to her crotch to cover herself.

"How can you be embarrassed?" Dean snapped at her in bemusement.

Natasha's heart raced a little faster in fear when she saw a storm brewing in his eyes. Before she could answer though, he was on top of her, his hand wrapped around her throat and his knees on either side of her, forcing her to lie down on her back. Dean then roughly pulled her panties all the way down to her ankles.

"If I want to see this pussy, I'm going to fucking see it!" he snarled, pushing her legs apart so harshly that he hurt her. He then balled her panties in his fist and turned around to the others.

"Who wants em?" he asked.

Natasha then saw him fling them and according to the shouted name that filled the room, Cesaro had caught them. She was feeling quite mortified that Dean was throwing around her quite pricey underwear. First there had been the tights he had ruined last night, those she could deal with since you could only get a few wears out of tights anyway, but she had intended on going home in her panties tonight.

He looked back at her and saw the look of horror on her face. He grinned and licked his lips.

"Hey Cesaro," he said as he stared her down. "How do those panties smell?" His smile grew even wider as Natasha's eyes almost bugged out of her head.

"They smell like they belong to a bitch in heat," Cesaro replied.

"Perfect. Sounds to me like she's ready." He raised an eyebrow at her and stuck out his tongue.

Her stomach clenched at the sight of it, so pink and shining with saliva. She had never properly had a man's mouth between her legs. One or two of her boyfriends had tried it, but decided that they didn't like the taste after about a minute. She was nervous that Dean was going to think the same thing, but that emotion was overpowered by the excitement she felt at the prospect of climaxing under a warm, wet mouth. She imagined that he was probably quite good at it, too. He was the mouth of The Shield, was he not?

He pushed her knees up and apart so that her feet came off the bed and she was fully exposed. He leaned his head back and took in the view.

"You are so goddamn wet that you're fucking _glistening_. You must want me pretty fucking bad. Is that it?" Natasha went to nod, but he continued before she could. "Or maybe you're a filthy exhibitionist slut, huh? You acted all coy about showing your pussy, but I bet it really gets you off."

She wanted to shake her head no, but she honestly wasn't certain anymore. She realized that she was taking a while to respond and braced herself for a slap, but it never came.

"I guess I'll just have to find out for myself," he said.

He lowered his mouth down to her pussy and ran his tongue up her lips achingly slow. She was surprisingly sensitive and a whimper escaped from her lips.

He then took a deep breath and breathed out on her pussy. The action wasn't intentional, at least Natasha didn't think so, but feeling his hot breath on her pussy seemed to wake every nerve in her body. He then licked the inner folds of her pussy slowly, getting his first taste of her. Then he stuck his tongue deep into her opening and looked up at her through electric blue eyes as he did so.

He laughed at the look of bliss that was etched across Natasha's face then turned his head to look at their audience.

"Look at that," he said.

Natasha felt him hold her lips open so that everybody saw her pussy. He then slipped his finger inside her and pulled it out. Of course, it came out shining with her arousal.

"Punk!" he then said and laughed. He turned to Natasha to let her in on the joke. "Punk's got his hand down his pants," he said, then sucked her wetness off his finger and put his face back in her pussy.

She managed to turn her head to the side and sure enough, Punk was stroking himself underneath his pants. His breaths were shallow and his eyes looked glazed over with lust. Didn't he have a girlfriend though? What exactly was this all about?

Her attention was quickly snapped back to Ambrose as he began to draw circles around her clit with his tongue. She gripped at the bed sheets and arched her back off the bed as he worked. Her moans came out faster and louder as she felt a warm, tingling feeling spread throughout her body.

When he saw this, he pulled back and wiped his mouth. She let out a soft cry of disappointment.

"I couldn't let you get off that easily. No, no, I'm not quite done with you yet."

She looked at him with needy, pitiful eyes. This made him happy.

He climbed off of the bed and undid his belt. The soft sound of the leather strap sliding out of the loops was like a sigh. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles and then kicking them off. He removed his boxers as well, unveiling his fully erect cock.

Despite having had his cock in her mouth the night before, this was the first time that Natasha had a proper look at it. It was perfect, or at least what she imagined the perfect cock to look like. As she stared at it longingly, she could feel a faint trickle of saliva escape the corner of her mouth.

He noticed, and pounced on it.

"Do you want it?" he asked. She looked back up at his eyes, her thoughts too clouded with lust to answer. "Do you want my dick?"

He rubbed the head between her drenched lips.

"I can't go any further until you tell me what you want. Tell me what you fucking need, you stupid bitch!"

She responded almost out of animal instinct. "I want you… I want you to fuck my tiny pussy with your thick cock!" she gasped.

Dean let out a loud groan as she heard the sound of the other men's zippers releasing.

"Look at that mouth," he seemed to whine at the room at large. "Look at that hot, wet, slutty mouth!"

He then came around the bed fast and grabbed her hair, pulled her head up and pushed his cock against her lips. It was obvious he wanted to fuck her face. Natasha opened her mouth desperately, but immediately starting choking when he pumped in and out of her mouth fast. He pulled out of her mouth only to berate her.

"Can't you take it?" he mocked her and then slapped her around the head lightly a few times.

She had always thought that would be the type of thing she would hate, but she wanted him so much that she enjoyed every bit of physical contact he made with her. He had hardly allowed her any time to catch her breath when he shoved his cock in her mouth again, going balls deep.

"Get me that fucking blindfold!" he shouted to someone.

Natasha started to panic and tried to get off his dick, but Dean wouldn't let her, not until he was ready to catch the blindfold one-handed.

"Hey, hey!" he comforted her, stroking her hair with his free hand when he saw that she was physically resisting whatever he was going to do with that blindfold before it had even gone anywhere near her body.

"You trust me, don't you?" he asked.

Natasha felt like an idiot to admit it, but she really did. He'd put her through so much that should send a woman running away already, but despite that, she had taken it all and even enjoyed it . She stopped resisting for a moment and then nodded.

He pulled his dick out of her mouth. "I want to hear you say it."

"I trust you, Mr. Ambrose."

He kissed her forehead and wrapped the blindfold around her eyes, tying it snugly in the back.

The blackness surrounded her and she swore that her other senses were heightened. She gasped when she felt two hands grab the side of her head and the soft head of Dean's cock press against her lips once again. She opened her mouth, granting access to the long shaft, but something didn't feel right. There was a curve to the right where Dean's had been straight. She tried to yell, but the sound only came out muffled around the flesh in her mouth. She felt a separate pair of hands grab her arms from behind her so that she couldn't struggle as much. Then she felt someone's warm breath against her ear.

"Shhh…just relax. I'll keep you safe. Just enjoy it and show me what a good little slut you are," whispered Dean.

She instantly relaxed at the sound of his voice. Her throat had previously been resistant, but now it smoothly accepted the long shaft that was begging for entry. She felt the hands on her head tighten and the mystery cock began to thrust quickly between her soft lips. She never thought that it would be possible, but the anxiety of not being able to see who was in front of her was turning her on. She let a low moan rumble through her throat and it was apparently too much for him, as she could taste the salty cum as it shot into her mouth.

Natasha pursed her lips to spit it out, but she was stopped by Dean's omnipresent voice at her ear again.

"Swallow it," he instructed her. "Taste it." He then licked her ear, as if in demonstration.

Natasha did not think she liked being licked, but his breath in her ear and his wet tongue in such a sensitive place felt oddly erotic. She obediently swallowed the cum down in one gulp and licked the inside of her mouth clean.

"You don't know who's cum you've just swallowed," Dean laughed softly in her ear.

"But you liked it, didn't you? You don't care whose cum it is."

"It tasted nice." The words slipped out of Natasha's mouth completely by accident, but she really had enjoyed the taste of it.

Then while distracted by her own dirty thoughts and Dean's voice, she felt rough fingers invade her.

"I don't like that!" she whimpered and tried to close her legs, but she felt a pair of strong hands restrain them, forcing them to stay open.

"You do," Dean said and then he pressed his mouth on hers. She couldn't be sure it was his mouth, but she convinced herself it was since she had only a second ago heard his voice right in her ear.

Then she felt another hand lift up her bra and tease her nipple. Not long after she felt a hot, wet and greedy mouth suck it. Was that Dean's mouth? She really couldn't be sure... She heard his breathing. It wasn't right next to her ear anymore, but he was close.

She tried her best to focus on the rise and fall of his breaths as the many strange hands and mouths roamed around her body. Her body was physically reacting to everything, the tongues on her hard nipples, the fingertips lighting tracing along her thighs, the nails scratching into her sides, but mentally she wasn't sure how much more she could take. This was a lot for her all at once and she was afraid that she might break.

She had never been with more than one man at a time and usually her sexual encounters were rather dry and by the book. A little bit of oral because it's expected, then vaginal penetration in the missionary position because that's what a lady does, or so she had been raised to believe. None of her boyfriends had ever tried anything this daring, this exotic, and she never would have asked it of them. Perhaps that was part of the reason that her relationships never lasted very long. Did they think she was sexually boring? How would they know if they never tried anything that wasn't vanilla? She laughed, quietly at first, thinking about what her exes would say if they could see her now!

Her laugh began to get louder and more unhinged. She felt like she was losing herself.

"Okay, that's enough, guys," Dean said sternly.

She suddenly felt cold from the lack of warm bodies near her. She then felt that familiar breath near her ear and a warm hand on her cheek.

"I'm the only one touching you now. I promise." He pulled the blindfold up to her forehead and smiled at her. She could see out of the corner of her eyes that the other men were exactly where they had been before. She almost started to wonder if she had completely imagined what had just occurred.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Don't look at them," Dean said.

"I wasn't," Natasha said. She hadn't moved her head, she'd only glanced at them, but Ambrose covered her mouth with his finger and didn't allow her to make excuses.

"Shhh...focus on me."

How could she not? The fact was that Dean was the only man she really wanted to fuck in this room and at that moment he seemed like the most handsome man on the planet to her.

"Take off your bra. Let me see those titties properly," he instructed her.

Natasha unclasped it and pulled it from her arms and Dean took the blindfold away. She was completely exposed to him now, but he still remained clothed, so Natasha reached for the hem of his t-shirt and made to pull it over his head. He clasped her wrist to stop her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Undressing you," Natasha said quietly. That was normal in sex, wasn't it?

"Don't do anything unless I tell you to do it," he said.

Then he flipped her over onto her front and slapped her naked ass, which hurt a lot more than the first slap had and made her cry out.

"That was for trying to take my shirt off without permission. Are you going to do that again?"

"No, Mr. Ambrose!" she gasped.

"That's a good girl." He pointed at his discarded jeans and nodded to one of the guys. "Hey Roman, toss me a condom from my wallet."

She rolled her eyes up over the pillow and stared at the headboard as they waited for the condom. It felt strange, lying there in silence, completely exposed. She felt no shame, however, since each of the guys had already had a clear look at every inch of her bare skin. There was nothing more to hide.

He grabbed one of her arms and held it behind her back so that her wrist was pressed against the small of her back. Dean caught the small foil packet one-handed and tore it open with his teeth. She felt him rub his hard cock in the palm of her hand and she instinctively wrapped her fingers around it.

"Mm…good girl. You got me nice and hard again."

He withdrew his cock and rolled on the condom, rubbing the covered head between her wet lips when he was done.

"Fuck, I bet you're tight, aren't you?" he asked. He leaned forward and quietly spoke to her. "I'm not going to be gentle with you, but I won't hurt you. I know how to take care of a pussy."

She felt the slight pressure of him pressing the tip to her entrance, but he didn't immediately push it in. He lazily rubbed it against her and it drove her mad. She squirmed underneath him and let out a faint whine.

She felt his body weight push down on her as he leaned forward. "Do you think I won't do it? Hmm?" Suddenly he thrust completely inside of her as she cried out and buried her face in the pillow.

"Fuckkkk," Dean drawled as he kept his dick buried inside her. "You are tight! And sooo warm."

He was warm too and stretched her enough so that she felt wonderfully sensitive, but not so much that she was in physical pain. Natasha felt him hold on to her hips tightly to withdraw his cock and ease himself back into her slowly. The third time he did this she pushed her hips back to meet his slow thrusts.

"Do you want me to go faster?" he asked.

"No," Natasha answered, closing her eyes in contentment. She was getting used to the feel of a new cock inside her. She could happily go with this rhythm; those deep, slow thrusts. However, his next thrust was sharper and faster.

"How does that feel?" he asked and repeated the movement.

She wasn't used to it that hard and she knew he was still holding back. However, despite how uncomfortable it was, he was right, it didn't hurt. Instead it felt intense. She knew she wouldn't be able to relax and wait for him to finish like she had with her ex-boyfriends if he continued to go on like that, but she didn't mind one bit.

Everything she had done with him since last night was different. She had never really looked at sex as something enjoyable. It was just an expected part of a romantic relationship. She had never even had an orgasm, honestly. She did touch herself sometimes, but she would feel dirty about it before she got anywhere past a warm euphoric sensation.

He wrenched back her other arm and placed her other wrist next to the first. He continued to thrust into her, sharply and deeply, but still at a slow tempo. As she got used to the feeling, it dawned on her how much she really enjoyed it. That warm euphoric sensation she knew from masturbation had spread throughout her body. It was no longer only localized between her legs. She never knew that she could feel this way before. She felt so good that a soft moan fell from her mouth.

This was not lost on Dean.

"Hmm? Did you guys hear that?" He thrust just a little harder and she moaned more audibly. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He took this as an opportunity to start working faster.

After a moment, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up onto her knees. She instinctively lifted up the front half of her body so that she was on her hands and knees , but she was instantly pushed back down by one of his large hands on the back of her head. Her face was smothered into the pillow and she let out a muffled yell that was perhaps part frustration and part arousal. She had never been handled so roughly before. She was a little offended, but she was also surprised at how good it was making her feel. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she wanted more.

She could hear the sound of their warm flesh connecting over and over again and it turned her on even more. She could faintly make out the sounds of some of the other men jerking off to the sight of her getting fucked. She managed to turn her head to the side and just made out the image of Roman orgasming into his hand. Dean suddenly covered her face with his hand so that she couldn't see.

"Why do you want to look at them? Why aren't you focused on me, huh? I guess I need to fuck you harder then?" He growled in the back of his throat and furiously moved his hips. He could hear her muffled moans underneath his palm and it made him smile.

The intensity of his movements brought on a new feeling for her. It almost felt like her pelvic region was on fire. Was this normal? It hurt a little bit, but it wasn't painful. It was sort of enjoyable, really. There was also something about his whole hand covering her face that made her feel small and submissive…and utterly aroused.

That strange new feeling was growing and spreading very quickly. She suddenly felt it surge and she let out a high-pitched squeal.

He pulled his hand away from her face so that he could see her as she came. "Yeah, that's it, baby, cum on my dick."

Was this what an orgasm felt like? She could only assume so and trusted Dean's opinion.

His grabbed her hips again and pulled her back hard onto his thrusts. He started to breathe heavier and a few moans of his own slipped out. She was familiar with this part of sex. So many times before had she passively lay there while her boyfriend at the time did his business. She knew that he was about to have his own orgasm.

"You stupid fucking slut, you dirty cunt, fuck!" He gripped his fingers hard into her slight hips as he came, thrusting stiffly a few times before he finally settled deep within her. She could feel his dick pulsing against her walls as he filled the condom. A sliver of her wished that it wasn't there so that she could feel him better.

"Oh fuck," she heard him sigh again under his breath as he regained his composure.

Natasha listened to the sound of his breathing become more even until she could no longer hear it, then she looked over her shoulder at him and waited for him to separate his body from hers. His eyes snapped to hers instantly and she buried her face back in the pillows again, shying away from his hot gaze. She felt embarrassed. What she had just experienced had been nothing short of amazing. She knew that was nothing to be ashamed of, but she had just had sex in front of a room full of men. Finally she felt him slowly withdraw from her sensitive pussy and when she did she lowered her hips to the bed to relax and closed her eyes. She felt oddly calm, but she could not let sleep take her so she forced herself to listen to the buzz of the room around her. She could hear laughter, the odd remark about how good Dean had been and how hot she was, but she could not bear it and covered her ears up like a child would. Then suddenly her hand was wrenched from her ear. She turned to the aggressor with a gasp and was not surprised to find that it was Dean. He then pulled her up around her waist onto her hands and knees and punished her again with another sharp smack to her rear.

Natasha whimpered at the fierce sting of his hand and flinched when she heard him rasp into her ear, "Stay like that."

Now she could not shut herself off from the sounds of the room, but to her relief, she heard the door opening and closing. She looked around subtly, careful not to move her head too much so that she did not invoke Dean's anger again and saw that the room had been cleared of everyone but Rollins, and he was leaving now too. That meant Dean had been left alone with her, unless he was about to abandon her like he had tried to last night. Thankfully he hadn't; she could see him.

"You can relax now," he said, and Natasha got back into the cradled position she had been in, feeling safe with him. She then felt the weight of him settle on the bed beside her and he stroked back her hair gently.

"Was that your first orgasm?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I think so. If that's what an orgasm feels like."

"Well your pussy was definitely twitching around my cock, so I'm going to say yes."

She blushed and hid her face under her hands. He swatted them away and rolled his eyes at her.

"Quit being embarrassed and acting all shy about it. It's just sex."

"I'm looking at the guy I just had sex with in front of five of his friends. I'm allowed to be embarrassed."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Really? Do I need to spank you again?"

"No…" she said reluctantly and forced herself to look at him. She still couldn't get rid of the blush in her cheeks, though.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked, stroking her head again.

"Y-yes. Yes I did." It felt good to admit to it out loud. "But I can't believe that you let the other guys touch me."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When I was blindfolded, everyone was touching me and that wasn't your penis in my mouth."

"Did you see any of them touch you?"

"No, of course not, I was blindfolded!"

"Then you have no proof."

"But I could feel it!"

"Nah, sweetcheeks, it was all me. I'm just that damn good." He smiled cockily and stuck his tongue out at her.

Natasha giggled at him.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked.

"You!"

"Seriously. It was just me...wasn't it?"

He stared into her eyes and Natasha understood the unspoken threat.

"Yeah, it was just you."

"Good girl," he winked at her. Then he picked up her clothes and pressed the bundle into her chest. "I take it you can find your own way back this time," he said.

Natasha took the cold hint. There was something so empty about all of this. She'd had undoubtedly the most wonderful sexual experience of her life, but it was precisely because of that that she did not want to be kicked out like this. She would see him again next week, but he might not see her. Would it be too much to ask that they actually properly meet again next week rather than leave things to chance?

"Yes. I have a room in this hotel. Umm…" she drifted off, unsure how to start her question. He raised his eyebrows and stared at her, waiting for her to start speaking again. "Would it be okay if I got changed here before I left? I'd rather not be left naked in the hallway like that drunk girl."

He snorted and slowly nodded his head. "Yeah sure. Just don't take too long. "

That bought her some time. She slowly began to pull her panties back on, but not so slowly that he'd yell at her to hurry up.

"I'm going to be at the Raw show in Philly on Monday."

"Okay," he dryly responded. He looked like he was barely paying attention as he picked a piece of fuzz off of the bed sheets.

"Would I be able to meet up with you again? I…I really enjoyed myself tonight."

"You serious? Look, Nadia, I don't double dip."

She looked hurt as he spoke. "Please, De-, I mean Mr. Ambrose. I'd do anything to see you again."

This caught his attention and he looked up at her. "Really? You'd do _anything_?"

Perhaps not _anything _but now Natasha had at least got his attention she wanted to keep the ball rolling.

"Yes. Anything," she repeated.

He looked at her incredulously then laughed. "Shit," he swore, laughing as he said it. "Are you that desperate?"

Natasha wasn't sure whether he wanted her to be that desperate or not. Thankfully he didn't make her answer him.

"I can see in your eyes that you are," he said.

"Get down," he then ordered her and pointed at the floor.

Natasha automatically knelt on the floor in front of where he sat on the bed, assuming that was what he wanted.

"I'll make you a deal," he said whilst taking her chin in his hand.

He gave a long, scrutinizing look at her. The shake of his head told Natasha that he had changed his mind about making any deals with her.

"I don't know. I'm trying to sum you up, Nadia. You aren't very smart are you?"

Natasha clasped his hand like a beggar. "I know I'm not very clever but you can trust me. I promise. Please say you will see me again." Natasha actually felt her eyes tear up when she begged him.

"Don't go crying on me again," he warned her with a frown.

"I won't," Natasha said, shaking her head frantically. She was acting so silly. What would he think of her if she started crying again?

"I'll tell you what. I will see you again if you play a game with me. Do you think you'd be up for a game?" he asked her.

His voice was so seductive and coaxing that Natasha thought she might agree to any game…but she still she asked cautiously. "What kind of game?"

"Gimme your phone."

He held his hand out, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. She crawled over to her purse, grabbed her phone, and crawled back over to him. She put it in his hand and looked up at him hopefully. He looked back down at her and shook his head.

"You seriously look fucking pitiful right now. But let's just see how pitiful and desperate you really are." He started scrolling through her phone as he spoke. "I'm going to put my number in here. At some point before next Monday, I'm going to send you a text giving you a set of instructions. If you do what I ask and send me a picture proving that it happened…I'll let you hang out with me Monday night." He held out the phone for her, but when she went to grab it, he pulled it away. "Got it?" She nodded and he handed her cell back to her.

Natasha looked at the new contact which read 'Mr. Ambrose'.

"Why have you put yourself in as 'Mr. Ambrose'?" she asked in confusion.

"Because that's what you call me isn't it?!" he snapped at her.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose!" she flinched. Then she rang his number. "You have my number now," she smiled.

"So I do," he said and returned her smile, though his wasn't so innocent.

Then a moment passed where they just looked at one another.

"Get out then," he finally said.

Remembering that he didn't want to be kissed last night when they parted ways with each other, and that he didn't want to be kissed in greeting tonight, she settled for giving him a wave before she turned her back on him. She thought that maybe he'd see her to the door or at least wave back, but he did neither.

Not wanting her departure to feel this awkward, she said, "See you on Monday!"

At that moment she truly believed she would. Surely whatever he asked her to do would not be so hard to accomplish, and if it was, doing it would be worth it to see him at the end of it. She quickly snapped the door behind her so that she wouldn't hear Dean's retort, if he had made one, because she did not want him to cast any doubt over her certainty.

When she got to her room she immediately went into her contacts to look up his name again. She had his number. She let that sink in, it meant all sorts of things, that he trusted her, he wanted to see her again, he liked her... It was very tempting to send him a friendly text right now, and though he hadn't told her never to text him she refrained from doing it, somehow she knew he would like that. However, getting his number was a mixed blessing. Natasha wouldn't be able to get a decent night of sleep or even be able to think straight while she would be awaiting that text...

* * *

**Cheap plugs for our other stories! If you're enjoying this, give them a look (if you haven't already *wink!*):**

**By BrodieBlue:**

_**His Property; The Discipline; Ring Rat; Virgin Blood (co-written by Phoenix360); Three Wishes**_

**By OtherLuces:**

_**The Man with the Green Eyes; The Business of Sex; Wolf and Crowe; One Night Only**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Did Mom send you a card?" Natasha asked her father as she looked at the cards that she had neatly arranged on the mantel of the fireplace in his favorite living room.

"No," he sighed in exasperation. "You know she hasn't given me a birthday card since she left us."

Yesterday had been her Father's birthday and that was why she had come to keep him company this weekend. He always liked to keep his birthday a private affair, but she enjoyed going through the birthday rituals with just the two of them. Baking him a birthday cake, opening his birthday cards with him, arranging the cards... They were all traditions she vaguely remembered her Mother having started, but anything her Mother ever started was short lived, so Natasha had to continue them alone.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out for a meal tonight? It will be on me!" Natasha turned to him to say cheerily, ignoring his previous glum response.

"You mean it will be on me," he grunted. He then settled down in front of his huge TV with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

The whiskey he was drinking had actually been a gift from Natasha, but he had received it ungratefully, complaining that, in actuality, he had paid for it. Nevertheless, he was still enjoying it so she had clearly chosen well.

"Well…yes," she awkwardly replied. She stared for a moment at the back of her father's head as he watched the news. "Would you like me to leave you alone for the rest of the night?"

"Yes please." He dismissed her with a flick of his wrist. "Oh, and remember that your step-mother is coming back from her trip tomorrow. Goodnight, Natasha."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

She went upstairs to her bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. She loved her father, but their relationship often felt strained. She could never completely put her finger on why. She took off her shoes and socks, slipped her feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and fell back onto the bed. She had hoped that this weekend would be a good one, a happy one. She had been so excited to celebrate her father's birthday, but he was being such a wet blanket about it. Maybe it was because his wife Carol had been away on business all week. Still, if that was it, wouldn't he be giddy right now because she was coming home in the morning?

Natasha let out a long sigh. She decided to turn on this week's episode of Smackdown to calm her mind, even though she had been there and knew what would happen. She really just wanted to see Ambrose again. He had said that he'd text her with some instructions this week, but it had been a few days and still no message. She was starting to wonder if she should text him to see if there was a problem.

It was right as the main event was starting and Natasha had been lulled into a soothing wrestling trance when she was startled by her phone vibrating. Not many people text her, so it could very well be Dean.

"Please be Dean, please be Dean," she whispered to herself as she reached out for her phone.

The sender read 'Mr. Ambrose' as she still hadn't changed his name in her contacts, and didn't dare to. She felt a nervous sense of anticipation before she opened the full message. It read:

"Hello Nicola. I'm bored. You're going to entertain me."

Natasha speedily composed a reply. "Hi Dean. Its Natasha lol. Im bored 2 lol xxx"

She held the phone to her heart after sending it, eagerly awaiting his reply. She had an idea of how he wanted to be entertained, but she would have to wait and see what he said. Thankfully he did not make her wait very long.

"WTF was that? Let's set some rules:

1. You call me 'Mr. Ambrose'. I'm not going to tell you that again.

2. I don't care what your name is.

3. Don't ever text 'LOL' to me.

4. Text me in proper English.

5. Don't send me "kisses".

Now try again."

Natasha had never received such a long and formal text, or one that made her gut twist so much.

She stared at her phone, trying to figure out how to properly respond so that she didn't upset him more. She didn't want him to change his mind about letting her meet him after the show on Monday. It took her a few minutes to write the text, but she was happy with the result. She just hoped that Dean wouldn't be angry at how long it took for her to respond.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. I am sorry for disobeying you. Hello and how are you tonight?"

She scrunched her face as she read it over one last time before hitting send. It just looked so cold and formal. They had had intense, wild sex only a few days ago. Weren't they past such formalities? Perhaps Ambrose was just a man who liked old-fashioned manners, although you'd never guess it from his scruff exterior.

She was beginning to wonder if her second text wasn't good enough when he finally replied.

"That's much better. Good girl. I'm doing well. House show was fun. Driving with the boys now and I'm bored."

That's it? No instructions? Natasha was confused, but at least he praised her and was no longer upset. She smiled at the screen and was wondering if she was meant to reply when another text buzzed in.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Fashion was one of Natasha's favorite topics of conversation, aside from wrestling, so she was very happy that he was interested in what she was wearing. Plus, she thought she looked pretty hot today.

"I'm wearing a low cut white blouse with blue spots on it and skinny blue jeans. I bought them from H&M. What are you wearing?"

She took her time typing out the text and read it back to make sure it was as descriptive as possible. After sending it though, she realized that perhaps she shouldn't have told him that she shopped at H&M. She could afford better clothes and she didn't want to give him the wrong impression! Her phone buzzed again very quickly after she had sent the text.

"Interesting. What are you wearing underneath that?"

Natasha tried to make sense of the text she had just received. Was he really interested or was he being sarcastic? He had asked what she was wearing, but he hadn't actually answered her own question.

"I'll tell you when you tell me what your wearing first."

She texted him back and crossed her fingers that she wasn't being too impolite.

"Do you really think you're in a position to be demanding anything of me? Just answer what I fucking ask you if you want me to fuck you on Monday. Also your grammar is terrible."

Her eyes teared up slightly when she read that. Why was he being so mean? She just wanted to know what he was wearing, like he wanted to know about her outfit. She rubbed her eyes with her wrist and typed back.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose. It wasn't my place."

"You're right. It wasn't," he sent back. "But because you were so polite with your apology…I'm still wearing my ring gear."

Natasha felt the space between her legs begin to warm up. If there was one thing that she had learned so far from this new fascination with Dean Ambrose, it was that she really liked his ring gear. There was something about how it was all black, how the tight fabric of his shirt stretched over his strong chest, and goodness gracious, how those pants seemed to perfectly cup his firm ass.

She was brought back from her daydream when she felt her phone vibrate in her hand. She wiped the drool away from the corner of her mouth and opened the new text.

"Isn't there something you'd like to tell me, hmm? After I so graciously let you know what I was wearing."

Yes, there was something she would like to tell him.

"I'm wearing matching white bra and panties with pale blue bows on them," she replied and smiled to herself. He liked the underwear she had been wearing on Tuesday night so she was sure he would like these too.

"I bet you'd like me to ravish you in your cute underwear right now," he text back.

She didn't know what it was about that text that made her heart pound in her chest, but it really was right now.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," Natasha hastily replied and held her phone tightly in her fist, her palms sweating. She was becoming more and more flustered as she awaited his next text.

"Slut. I will on Monday...if you're good. Why don't you send me a nice picture right now?"

Natasha did feel a little slutty right now, but she wasn't sure that she felt slutty enough to send him the type of picture he probably wanted.

"You mean like a picture in my bra and panties?"

"You think I'd be asking for a photo of you fully clothed? Am I fucking Amish or something?"

Natasha pursed her lips and thought about what she was being asked to do. She had never taken a picture of herself in her underwear. Sure, she had a few pictures in a bikini at the beach, but they were taken by friends or her boyfriend at the time. She'd never taken a selfie in her skivvies and sent it to anyone, let alone a celebrity! The idea was so naughty that it made her even wetter than thinking about him ravishing her in his tactical gear had.

She got up and locked her door. It was just her and daddy at home tonight, but she didn't want to risk him opening the door to say goodnight as he went to bed. How mortifying would it be for her father to see her in such a compromising position!

She went back over to the bed and pulled the blouse over her head. She unfastened her jeans and wriggled out of them. She folded both pieces of clothing and put them neatly to the side before looking back at her phone. She picked it up and sat against the headboard of the bed. She slid down a little bit so she was sort of slouched against it. She held the phone away from her body, hit a classic pin-up pose, and clicked the shutter button. She double checked it for clarity before she sent it to him. God, she hoped he liked it.

She waited a bit longer for his reply this time, which she did not find reassuring.

"Not bad. Show me a bit more."

"What do you want to see?"

She had been ready to get dressed again. A picture of her in her bra and panties had been all she was willing to show him. It was different being naked in front of him; she would feel dirty taking naked pictures of herself and then sending them to him.

"Your tits, for a start."

Natasha could remove her bra in one swift movement but she would rather not…

"I'm sorry but I don't want to :("

She worded her text politely, knowing he probably wasn't going to take her rejection well.

"If you want to fuck me on Monday, you'd better. This is only the first thing I'm going to make you do that you don't want to do."

Natasha inhaled sharply at the nasty text he had just sent. The way he was speaking to her wasn't OK, but the thought of him making her do things against her will was actually really getting her going.

She sighed in defeat. Her increasing arousal and strong urge to have him do unspeakable things to her again overpowered the fact that he was being a dick. She unfastened her bra and slipped it off of her. She held the phone in front of her perky, yet modest breasts and took the photo. She evaluated it and thought it came out pretty good. She sent the picture, thinking that he would love it.

She hesitated putting her bra back on, suspecting that Dean would be upset if he knew that she had.

"Not bad. Take another one with your nipples hard."

Her face was beet red with embarrassment at the naughty things he was asking her to do. He was nowhere near her, but she felt like he was sitting in her room, staring at her, watching her every move. She began to pinch her nipples gently, imagining that it was Dean doing it to her. They grew erect under her fingers within seconds. She quickly took a picture and sent it with one hand, continuing to touch her breasts with the other because it felt so good. She only stopped when she got his reply.

"That's more like it. I knew you were a huge slut under that whole innocent gimmick. You'd better be thinking about me when you touch yourself."

"I am," Natasha admitted in her next text and went straight back to tweaking her nipples as soon as she sent it.

She'd never before truly appreciated her own breasts; the way they filled her small hands, how soft the skin felt, how hard and pink her nipples could be. She pinched one a little harder, imagining the tips of her fingers were Dean's teeth nipping at her. Then her phone buzzed again and she eagerly opened the next text.

"Good. Now pull your panties down, get on all fours and take a pic of your tight ass."

Ah. That seemed a little too far for Natasha. Getting into such a position seemed a bit crude and if she bent over, Dean might see more than her bum in the picture…but if she didn't comply then Dean might call off Monday. Perhaps he may accept an alternative. She looked at the door and listened out for her Daddy's footsteps, but she could only hear the television blaring downstairs. Hopefully that meant he hadn't moved from the spot she had left him in. She quickly pulled down her panties just enough to expose her backside, lied on her side and snapped a quick picture of her ass. It looked erotic enough to her. Her panties had been pulled down to just below her buttocks and the tops of her thighs and her lower back were visible, but nothing in between her legs. It was tasteful. Feeling satisfied that it would be enough, she pulled them back up and sent him the picture.

"Cute. Now do it for real this time."

She sent back a text expressing her confusion. "What do you mean 'for real'? I took a picture of what you asked for."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you? Take off those frilly little panties of yours, spread your legs, and take another damn picture. I want to see your pretty pink pussy peeking out from between your legs."

Her face was radiating with shame as she stood up and finished taking off her panties. She felt a few tears begin to well up in her eyes. He wasn't here with her, but she knew that if he was, he'd be yelling at her. She hated being yelled at. Also she had never been made to do anything so degrading before. Well, maybe this wasn't as degrading as exhibitionist sex, but she had to actually physically take this picture on her own, while the sex she just sort of let happen to her.

She positioned herself as he had instructed and snapped the photo. She stayed in that position while she sent the picture and the scent of her arousal wafted up to her nose. Her eyes widened. Was this really turning her on so much? She slid her hand down between her legs and when she brought them back in front of her, they were slick and shining with wetness.

"Oh God," she muttered and wiped her fingers clean on her bed sheets before she became tempted to try touching herself down there. She really shouldn't be doing this in her Dad's house...and maybe she should open a window. She went to get off the bed when Dean quickly replied.

"Wasn't so hard was it? Nice. I can see how wet you are. You're making me so hard right now."

Natasha gasped when she read the text back to herself and checked the picture to see if he was telling the truth. She grimaced when she opened it. However, after staring at it for a minute, looking at the shape of her pert bottom, the way her buttocks topped her softly curving thighs and how her pussy did peek out between her thighs, she could understand why he liked the picture…and yes, the light had caught the wetness between her legs.

Natasha wished she could think of something intelligent and quick witted to text back, but she couldn't. She liked that she was turning him on and her pussy definitely liked it, but she wasn't used to sexting. She would feel way too silly trying to be sexy through texts and besides, he might not want her to be anyway.

She got fully dressed and lied back down on her bed, trying to ignore her now aching pussy. Then her phone buzzed again.

"No text back bitch?"

She started to panic now. Would he be upset that she didn't reply back immediately? Did he expect her to say something in particular? She decided that the best course of action would be to tell the truth.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose. I wasn't sure what to say back. I've never sexted before and I didn't want to embarrass myself."

She held her breath while she waited for a reply. Thankfully she didn't have to wait long.

"That's fine. I shouldn't expect you to be a complete cockslut without a little bit of training. You did well though. We're going to enjoy those pictures."

_We_? Oh no…was he sharing these with the other wrestlers?

"I am still disappointed that you didn't follow orders the first time. Do better tomorrow when I text you."

Natasha felt butterflies in her stomach when she read that he was going to text her tomorrow. He didn't seem to hate her after this series of messages. She smiled, in spite of the fact that she felt ashamed at how far she had let him convince her to go. He seemed to have a mental hold on her. His sexual charisma was just that strong.

* * *

**So this is the beginning of the "challenges" arc, I suppose. ^^() BB and I just have too much fun tormenting this poor girl.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!"

Everybody sang in the overly crowded dining room as Natasha's step-mother brought a birthday cake to her seated father. This wasn't his real birthday cake though, he'd had that yesterday. The one Natasha had baked herself. This was a fancy one her step-mother had bought and hadn't put the love into by making it herself. But still, Natasha joined in the birthday sing-along and did not begrudge her for not using her cake. She knew appearances meant everything to her step-mother and truthfully, appearances meant a lot to Natasha, too.

"Natasha! Help me serve the cake!" her step-mother beckoned her over to her.

She smiled at her step-mother, Carol, and jumped up to help her. She liked Carol. She was a good woman really, but she had come into her life too late to think of her as a second mother, and the age gap between them was too broad for her to think of her as a friend.

After serving slices of cake to everybody, she gave herself a piece last of all. When she sat down with it, she felt her phone vibrate. She'd been waiting to get a text from him all day. Really he could not have chosen a more inconvenient time, but as she was so keen to hear from him, she set her cake aside and opened the text, trying to shield it from nearby people as best as she could.

"What kind of panties are you wearing today?"

Well that was a polite way to start a conversation.

"I'm kind of busy right now. It's my daddy's birthday party and I can't really be sneaking off to fulfill your wishes."

She immediately sent another text, "Sorry, Mr. Ambrose."

She went back to socializing with the other guests and making sure that everyone was enjoying the party, even her father. She felt her phone vibrate once more, but this time, she ignored it. She had politely told him that she couldn't play right now, so he would just have to wait or leave his instructions for her to do later.

Over the next hour, she felt her phone buzz three more times. On the third, she decided that she had to deal with him now, or he'd just keep bothering her all night. She excused herself from the celebration, feigning digestive issues.

Once she was back up in her room, she opened her new messages.

"I don't care if it's your credit card's birthday, it's not an excuse."

"I don't think you really want to be doing this right now."

"I mean it, sweetcheeks. Don't fuck with me."

"You do realize that the longer you put it off, the worse your instructions will be…"

Natasha quickly sent back a reply after seeing the threatening nature of his texts.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose. I was able to finally slip away from the party. I am wearing baby blue bikini style panties today."

"It's about fucking time," he texted back. "We're past me wanting to know what panties you're wearing. You wasted that easy challenge when you ignored me."

Well, that wasn't very friendly. She'd just taken time away from her father's birthday party, a very important occasion, not just for her but for their extended family and friends, and he was swearing at her? Natasha wondered what she could say to show that she wasn't so easily pushed around.

"I didn't expect it would be that easy."

She stared at the text before sending it, deciding whether taking that tone with him really was a good idea or not. It probably wasn't, but she had some self-respect so she sent the text. Then she slumped back against her closed bedroom door to await his reply. If he acted a little more reasonable with her she would be willing to play.

"Oh? You're getting an attitude with me? Let me remind you that this is the price you said you were willing to pay to see me on Monday."

Natasha felt like a little school girl getting told off by her teacher. It wasn't just that it did not feel nice, she couldn't help feeling a bit afraid of her school teachers back in the day and Ambrose made her feel the same way. She had agreed to play by his rules, but on the other hand, the things he was making her do went against all of her conceptions of how a relationship with a man should go. Nevertheless, she knew she had to apologize to minimize any damage she might have done to her chances of seeing him on Monday.

"It is. I'm sorry I took an attitude with you. But it is my dad's birthday party today."

She awaited his reply with baited breath, but at least she had stuck up for herself. That was the right thing to do.

"STFU about your Daddy's birthday party. Right now, I am the only person that matters. Obey my next order or I will punish you."

Oh god! That apology had not been accepted the way she thought it would be! She almost dropped her phone when she felt it buzz again. She opened it to see that Ambrose had followed up the previous text with a one word text.

"Severely."

It finally sunk in that he wasn't playing around with her. She didn't want to know what sort of punishment he had in mind, so she immediately sent a text back to confirm that she was giving in.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. I understand and will obey you." She was pretty sure that was what he wanted to see.

"Good. Now go get some scissors and take a photo of them to prove it."

That was…odd. Why did he want her to get a pair of scissors? She knew that he wouldn't tolerate her asking him why she was to get this item because he would take it as insolence, so she got up off the floor and began to go through the drawers of her desk. After a few minutes (since she is not a very neat and organized girl) she finally found a pair of scissors with a pretty pink handle.

She took a picture of the scissors and sent it to Dean with the message "Here are the scissors."

He responded back with "Don't you think you're missing something?"

She yelped upon realizing that she had forgotten the most important part of the message; the main thing that he really seemed to care about.

"Here are the scissors, Mr. Ambrose."

"Good girl. Now I want you to take off whatever cutesy party dress you're wearing and lie down on your bed in your bra and panties."

She undressed, smiling a little at the fact that Dean thought she had been wearing a party dress, rather than her nice slacks and flower print blouse. When she was in a comfortable position, she took a modest picture and sent it to him, not feeling as ashamed as she had the night before.

"Very nice. Now take the scissors, spread your legs, and cut a slit through your panties so I can see your pussy."

Natasha's face reddened at the obscene request, she couldn't possibly do that. What did he think she was? A playboy playmate?

"Please can I do something else Mr. Ambrose?" she texted back. She wasn't being disobedient, but she had standards.

She waited longer than usual for his reply. Did that mean he was thinking of something else she could do instead? She hoped so. When her phone vibrated again she crossed the fingers of her left hand as she went to open the text.

"No. I said it'd be worse for you if you continued to ignore me, and you did, so it is. I'm not going to tell you again. Lie on the bed, spread your legs, cut a slit through your panties and send me a picture."

After reading the text with Dean's previous threats very fresh in her mind, Natasha realized she really had no choice. She supposed Dean was right. She had brought this on herself.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," Natasha replied in defeat.

She could almost cry at what she was being forced to do. It was a travesty; such a pretty pair of panties, and they matched her bra too, would be completely ruined.

"Why? Why? Why?!" she muttered to herself as she slipped them down to her ankles. Once removed she carefully made a sharp fold in them. "Goodbye panties," she sighed and then she made one neat cut through the fold.

When she opened them out, she held a pair of homemade crotchless panties in her hands. She opened the gap with her fingers and looked through the hole she made. That was one big hole when opened out like that! She put them back on and tentatively opened her legs, hoping this would all backfire on Dean and he wouldn't see a thing because the gap would not gape. Unfortunately for her, the further she stretched her legs, the wider she saw the gap become. The stretch fabric desperately wanted to give and would not hug her pussy closely.

"This is so embarrassing," she whispered to herself as she then held the camera out.

She looked into the screen and was treated to a view of what exactly Ambrose would see, and she was actually surprised to find that she looked sexy. She kind of did look like a playboy playmate. Was that really such a bad thing? When she felt herself become wet, she realized that maybe it wasn't.

She could clearly see the soft pink color of her pussy in between the baby blue fabric. She didn't spread her legs so far that he would be able to see every obscene inch of her, but it was a nice teasing image, and if she looked closely, she could even see her tiny clit peeking through.

She sent it to him without any comment and waited for his reply. While she waited, she placed her hand softly between her legs and began to stroke the mix of skin and fabric that was there. She could feel the heat radiating from her core and she could feel the slickness of her arousal right against her fingertips. She felt so dirty knowing that all those people were downstairs right now and they had no clue what depraved things she was doing up here.

"Beautiful. I guess you can follow directions. I was beginning to think that you were either stupider or less disciplined than I had thought."

She was torn between being upset that he was still insulting her after she had followed his instructions and being turned on by the fact that he had called her pussy beautiful.

"How many pairs of panties did you bring with you?"

"14."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose."

"Chicks and clothes...I just don't get it. Whatever. Put all of your panties in a pile and let me see."

It took her a while to gather all of them from her suitcase, but after a few minutes, she had them spread out between her legs on the bed in a pool of colors.

She trailed her hand over the pile and enjoyed the feel of soft silk, lace and cotton. She giggled thinking about throwing them in the air and having them land all over her, like she was having a panties party. So it was with a big smile on her face that she snapped a picture of them and sent it to Dean.

"You spoiled brat. How many pairs of panties do you think you own in total?" he replied.

That made the smile on her face slip a little bit. She had paid for these panties, with Daddy's money if she was being totally honest, but she had chosen them. It would just be weird if he had bought them for her, so really Dean had no idea what he was talking about. He had asked an interesting question, though. She had too many to count. Back at her own apartment she had one drawer that was just filled with panties.

"100," she text back at a guess, then she went back to feeling the soft skin of her pussy lips.

"That's ridiculous. Do you think you deserve that many pairs of panties?"

Natasha frowned. He was really putting her off the pleasurable sensations currently coursing through her body.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose," she quickly text back. All girls deserved as many pairs of panties as they liked.

"Fine. I guess you won't miss a few of them then, right? I want you to cut pussy slits in each of them."

Natasha dropped her phone when she read his text. Why? What was the point of this? She understood how he got enjoyment from the other things he had asked her to do. The photos of her in her underwear, of her ass, and of her privates - she assumed that he had become turned on by them, or at least had been entertained. She even sort of understood the idea behind cutting the slit in the first pair of panties. There was something taboo about crotchless undies, and the allure of a frilly panty mixed with the blatant sexuality of a bare pussy did make for an arousing combination…but what would making 14 pairs of crotchless panties do? What sort of pleasure would he get from that? Was it that he enjoyed torturing her?

She really didn't want to do it, but she knew that if she sent Dean back a whiny text about how it was unfair, he would just get angry at her and make her do it anyway, or make her instructions worse somehow. She reluctantly picked up the scissors and began to cut a slit in each pair of panties.

As she made each incision, she thought about whether the chance of being alone with him on Monday night was worth it. She thought back to how the light tickle of his breath felt on her skin. She thought about the sharp sting of his large hand spanking her ass. She thought about how his tongue felt running in between the lips of her pussy. When she was done cutting up all of the panties, she realized that she had created a small wet spot on her bed sheets. It seemed that her body was trying to tell her that a couple of ruined panties were a worthy sacrifice.

She arranged them in such a way that he could see that they all were cut like he asked, and then she took the expected photo. She sent it to him and lied back on the bed, gently rubbing her hand between her legs and imagining how good she would feel when she was with him again.

Natasha quickly rubbed herself to a very aroused state. It felt so good that when her phone vibrated with Dean's reply she was in no rush to read it.

"You didn't have to be told to send a picture, I'm impressed. They look so much better now. You've done well today. Run along to Daddy's party now, Princess," read the text.

But Natasha was no longer desperate to get back to the festivities. She wanted to play with Dean a bit. She wanted to hear how much he had liked the pictures, what he was thinking, what he wanted to do to her. However, everybody would be wondering where she had got to if she stayed up here much longer, but she couldn't help sending him another text.

"Why did you want me to cut up my panties Mr. Ambrose?" she asked in the hopes that it would start a conversation to her liking.

'Why do you think? I like making you do slutty things. Don't question me again,' he quickly replied.

Natasha didn't have the good sense to leave it there.

"Will you text me tomorrow?"

"I said don't question me again...but yes, I will text you tomorrow. Now do as you're told or I will get very angry with you."

Natasha could imagine how his voice would turn cold if he said that to her and how the sting of his hand on her backside or across her face for making him repeat himself would feel.

She put her phone down on her nightstand so that she wouldn't be tempted to send another message, probably a cutesy goodnight one. She got up and gathered all of the destroyed panties in one large pile. She was about to pick them up and toss them in the trash when the phone vibrated again, much to her surprise.

"You'd better not throw away those crotchless panties. I want you to bring them with you on Monday."

Did he somehow know what she was thinking of doing? Did he have a secret camera in her father's house somehow? Or was she just that transparent that he could easily guess what she would do with the panties? Either way, Natasha had basically just received confirmation that she was destined to feel Dean's strong arms around her once more on Monday.

"That is if you obey my orders tomorrow."

Dammit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Thank you for the party last night, Natasha. Carol said that you were the one who planned most of it. I had a surprisingly good time." Her father took a sip of his orange juice and smiled at his lovely daughter.

"It's my pleasure, Daddy. You know I love you."

"I love you too, princess." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "You know, is it just me, or have you been happier lately? You've been rather giddy all weekend."

Natasha blushed. There was a reason that she giddy, and his name was Dean Ambrose.

"Well actually, Daddy…I met a boy."

"A boy, hmm?" he asked, peering over the Sunday newspaper.

"Well, he's a man, really. A very strong, manly man."

Natasha saw her Father slightly drop his newspaper; she had caught his attention on that last bit. He'd often accused Natasha of not dating 'real men', but he could never accuse Dean of not being a real man.

"What does he do?" Daddy asked.

That was always her Father's first question about her boyfriends. If they were suitably employed he would ask more questions and if they weren't he'd berate Natasha for her poor choice in men. Natasha didn't think he would approve of Dean's occupation, so she wasn't sure how to answer.

"I'm not sure," was the answer she eventually settled on.

This made her Father actually set his newspaper aside.

"You aren't sure?" he repeated, frowning. Natasha sucked in her bottom lip awaiting a lecture from her Father. "Natasha, how many times have I told you that the first question you should ask a man before you accept a date from him is what his job is?"

"Oh, I asked Daddy! I just ... it's complicated. He travels a lot," she burst out. If she wasn't careful rather than protecting Dean, she'd make him sound like a bum.

She became concerned that she'd given her Father the wrong answer, especially when he made a 'tsk' noise.

"He won't even tell you what he does for a living. 'He travels a lot', I bet he does! Where does he travel to? Between different women?" he said, his voice rising up at the end of his thought of a man messing his daughter around.

The funny thing was, he probably wasn't far off the truth. Natasha wasn't so naive to truly believe that he had only had sex with her, but she could still hope that it was the case.

"No, Daddy!" she blurted out anyway, "I know what he does. I just can't tell you because he works on TV and nobody can find out about me. I promise you he does. I've seen his shows!"

"Oh," her Father answered in surprise.

"Is he like an actor?"

Natasha just nodded. It wasn't far from the truth, really.

"Oh, Natasha! That's fantastic news!"

If there was one thing her Father wanted more for his daughter than a rich husband, it was a famous husband.

"Well, how old is he then?"

Natasha had to think about that one, but her Father did not find her pause before answering suspicious. She often took a long time to answer questions.

"Ermmm, 28," she eventually said.

Her Father nodded enthusiastically. Twenty-eight sounded like a good age to him, not too young, not too old.

"And you say he's a 'strong, manly man'"? her Father said with a grin.

"Oh yes Daddy!" she gushed, blushing just thinking about how he looked. "He's really tall and muscly, he works out a lot. And sooo handsome!"

"I'm so happy for you, princess," he said cheerily as he picked up his paper and began to read again.

Or at least he would have if Natasha hadn't continued rambling.

"He has these icy blue eyes that twinkle when he's on top of me. And his hands….his hands are sooo big and they feel so rough when he grabs me…"

"Natasha."

"…And his mouth can make me feel things I never thought were possible, and he's such a good fuck!"

"Natasha!"

She was jolted out of her rant by her father's booming voice. She hadn't meant to get so carried away, but thinking about Dean just sort of got her going.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"I really don't want to hear that stuff. Please. Just…don't lose this one, okay? He sounds…like a keeper."

She nodded, smiled, and ran over to kiss him on the cheek. She dismissed herself from the dining room and went upstairs. She was about to turn into her room, when something caught her eye in her father's room across the hall.

It was rare for her to enter her father's room, so she was a bit nervous. She knew that her dad liked to keep it neat and clean, so he'd know if she touched anything. She walked toward the back wall, which was what had caught her eye, and sized up the brand new oil painting that was hanging there. Her father loved art and often commissioned paintings. This must have been the new one that he purchased for his birthday. She was admiring the color contrast and texture of the paint when her phone vibrated.

"Hey bitch, ready for your last challenge?"

Such a charmer…but Natasha felt oddly turned on by his degrading term of "endearment".

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. Hold on one moment. I'm in my dad's room, so let me go back to my room."

She turned to leave when she got a quick reply back.

"No. Stay there. That's perfect. You dirty girl."

Was he insane? It would look the worst if she stayed in her Father's room and got caught doing something inappropriate. Also, did he actually think she was already doing something she shouldn't be in there? That was just gross!

"I'm sorry, I can't. I might get caught," she texted back.

Then she left her Father's bedroom, being careful to keep her footsteps light. Even though he would not shout at her for looking at his painting, Dean had made her feel really bad about even being in there. As she was walking down the long corridor to her own bedroom, he replied. Natasha leaned against a wall to read his text. She was ready for a mean text because she had just refused to obey an order.

"Bitch, do you want to see me on Monday or not?"

That was not as bad as she thought it would be and he'd just called her that word again that made her feel things she never knew such a degrading insult could. Fuck it. Her Father was busy downstairs. He would have no clue that she had been in his room if she left it in the state it had been when she had entered it. She tiptoed back again and carefully closed the bedroom door. To really impress Dean, she took a photo of the room to show him that she was indeed in her Father's room.

"Yes Mr. Ambrose. I'm sorry. I'm back in his room now," she sent along with the picture.

"You're in his room now? So you left? You better instantly obey my next order. Take off all of your clothes, lie on Daddy's bed and spread your pussy lips."

Natasha grew very hot. She was in a dilemma now. Should she obey and risk getting caught, but definitely see Dean on Monday? If she wanted to see Dean badly that was what she should do, but it just wasn't an option, no one would do what he was asking her to do. All she could do now was beg for leniency.

"Please don't make me do that Mr. Ambrose. If my Dad catches me, he'll go crazy. I can take a pic of myself in here, but I can't do that on his bed."

She was meeting him halfway. That was more than most girls would give. Her heart pounded. Her Father could come up the stairs any moment and if she had to make a dash for her room, it would look extremely suspicious. But then her phone rang, mere moments after she had texted him, and the caller was 'Mr. Ambrose'. God, she'd really done it now. He was ringing up to shout at her at best or to tell her he was never going to see her again at worst. She let it ring a couple of times whilst plucking up the courage to answer.

"Hey M-Mr. Ambrose," she stuttered.

"You do realize what is at stake here, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm not quite sure that you want to fuck me as badly as you whined and begged last week. It's no loss of mine if I never see you again. There are thousands of pussies that are desperate for my dick, so if yours wants it again, you'd better just stop fighting it and obey me."

Natasha was silent for a moment. She wasn't quite sure what to say. She really did want to have sex with him again. Even after their first encounter, she knew that there was something addictive about him. She couldn't quite describe it. She really didn't want him to be with any other girls. The thought alone made her jealous and a little angry. Still, if he didn't care about having sex with her again, why was he being so persistent about these challenges? Why was he taking the time to actually call her up to scold her? That made it seem like maybe he cared at least a little bit.

She shook her head of these thoughts and returned to the situation at hand. She had been making Dean wait entirely too long for a response.

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose. You're right. I do want to sleep with you again and I like it when you tell me that I'm a good girl."

"I like it when you're a good girl. One thing though. We didn't sleep together, we fucked. Say it."

She hated that crude word. Sure it sounded sexy when being said in that raspy voice of his, but Natasha really hated saying it aloud. She bit her lip and swallowed, knowing that she'd just have to get over it.

"We fucked, Mr. Ambrose."

"Nice. Yeah, we did fuck and you were such a good little slut. I want to be able to fuck you again, but only if you listen to me. Now get naked, lie on his bed, and spread that beautiful pussy."

His voice was so entrancing that she obeyed immediately this time. Therapists could probably use his voice to hypnotize patients. She left her clothes in a small pile and carefully climbed onto her father's giant four post bed. She stayed near the edge, just in case she needed to make a quick escape. She spread her legs like he had demanded and took a photo, which at this point was something that was safe to assume that he wanted. She brought the phone up to her ear again.

"I'm sending the picture to you right now."

"OK," he simply answered.

There was pause where nothing was said whilst he waited for the picture to arrive. All that could be heard was Dean's breathing down the phone and it really turned her on. She had it so bad for that man that she even found the sound of his breathing sexy.

"Here it is, let's take a look," he finally said. "Hmm you look like such a slut." Then he laughed aloud as if he had been trying hard to contain a laugh and had failed. "Zooming in..."

His talking through looking at the picture was far more embarrassing than just snapping them and sending them to him. Even Natasha was starting to wonder what she had made a fuss about now.

"You're so fucking wet aren't you? Did you get a wet patch on Daddy's bed? You dirty, dirty girl."

"No Mr. Ambrose!" Natasha gasped. She'd taken care to make sure that part of her didn't touch the sheets. It would be mortifying to leave a stain.

"You will now. Touch your pussy for me on Daddy's bed."

"No, I can't," Natasha responded without hesitation.

"Are you sure you can't? Last chance. Do it."

"Please don't make me. I've done everything you asked me to."

Dean didn't answer her and Natasha wondered if she had stepped so far out of line that he wouldn't see her on Monday now ...

"Please, pretty please can we stop this now? I've shown you how much I want to see you on Monday. How much I want you to fuck me," Natasha said blushing. It was not a word that she usually used.

Then Dean let out a long sigh.

"Fine. Go to your room," he ordered.

"Thank you Mr. Ambrose!"

"Don't thank me yet!" he snapped over her. "GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

She quickly tossed the phone to the ground and scrambled off the bed. She pulled her shirt back over her head and slipped her panties and slacks over her ankles. She had just finished pulling them up and was working on her zipper when her dad entered his room.

"Oh Natasha...what are you doing in my room? You know I don't like it when you're in here."

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I just noticed your new painting and came in to admire it."

He walked in past her and nodded toward the painting. She took this as a chance to bend over and snatch her phone off the ground before he could notice it.

"It is a remarkable piece. I can't say I blame you for admiring it."

"Thank you for letting me look at it, Daddy. I'm going to go back to my room now."

Her father didn't acknowledge her leaving, he was so wrapped up in his art, but as she slipped into her room, she heard him ask, "Does it smell strange in here?"

She put the phone back to her ear. "I'm alone in my room now."

"Just admiring the painting, huh? You little liar."

"That was what I was doing when you called.

"You still lied to your father's face and you haven't been obeying me when I first ask you to do something. So for your final instruction, I want you to spank yourself as punishment. I want you to film it and send it to me. I'll hang up so you can get started. You have five minutes."

"Wait! Hang on! What did you say? Hello? Hello?!" she said, but it was too late because he'd hung up as soon as he had given her instructions.

"How am I meant to spank myself" she texted him desperately.

"On your bare ass with your hand. Hurry up. You're wasting time," was his speedy reply.

This felt like the silliest thing Natasha had ever had to do, but she pulled her slacks and panties down in preparation anyway, fully aware that she was getting off lightly. Then when she was naked from the waist down, she realized how difficult a task this could be. She needed to be able to hold the phone in such a position that her ass would be in focus and keep her right hand free to spank herself. She decided to kneel on the floor and lean against her bed. Holding out the phone behind her, she hit record then got ready to give herself the first slap, but hesitated. This was more than silly. This was downright embarrassing. But 30 seconds had passed on the recording and still her hand had not struck her backside, so she clenched her eyes closed and gave herself the first slap. The sound rung out around the empty room and it was worryingly loud. She gave herself another…

"Natasha? Is that you?"

She heard her Father's voice call down the corridor.

"Oh God!" she said to herself, forgetting the recording.

She couldn't respond to her Father without drawing unwanted attention to herself, so she hurried to give herself a few more slaps, much lighter this time and in a fast flurry. She squealed when she felt her cheeks bounce slightly. It did not hurt, but the sensation made her feel ridiculous. After about three minutes of recording had been amassed, she stopped, hoping that would be enough. Then she sent it to Dean without an accompanying message, got dressed again, and slumped face first on to her bed in embarrassment. As she lay there, she thought of how hilarious Dean would find it and the horror of next seeing him and his friends after he'd shown that video to everyone, until her phone rang. She took a deep breath before answering.

"Hey," she answered Dean shyly.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Erm, a spanking?"

"You call that a spanking? Wait until Monday, I'll show you what a spanking is."

"Dean!" she couldn't stop herself wailing. "I took my punishment!"

"Stop whining. I'll spank you harder than you've ever been spanked-"

"But I've never been spanked before!" she interrupted him.

He sighed and waited to see if she would say anything else before he began to speak again. "Okay, let me put it this way. I'm going to give you a spanking that will make every boyfriend you've ever had look like a pussy. I'm going to spank you so hard that whenever another guy tries to give you a few smacks on your ass, you'll think of me and get so wet from the thought that you'll realize that I ruined you for other men. I'm going to give you a spanking that you'll remember for your whole life."

Natasha sat on her bed in a stunned silence.

"Did that get my point across?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Ambrose."

"Good girl. Don't forget to bring those crotchless panties of yours. I assume you'll be in the front row again?"

"Yes, Mr. Ambrose."

"Cool. I'm looking forward to Monday, Natasha."

"It's Natasha, Mr. Am-, wait, you got it right!" she said with a smile, but he had already hung up.

She put her phone down and lied back onto the bed. A spanking that she'll remember for her whole life. Her ass hurt just thinking about it. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	8. Chapter 8

**So its been a little longer than usual, but we have a few chapters on queue. I'm really happy with these next three, personally. BrodieBlue has a new series called Pro-Dom, check it out if you enjoy her D/s flavor. If you read The Man, I'm sorry it's been a while since I've updated. I've been stuck a bit in terms of writing and I have the final for the class I've been taking on Tuesday. So once that's done, hopefully I will suddenly be inspired. It stinks when you know what you want to happen, but it doesn't want to go from your brain to the computer screen.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

No amount of expensive lotions and potions could erase the dark circles under Natasha's eyes. About a dozen half empty glass jars littered her vanity table and with a frustrated squeal, she suddenly swept them up into her arms and let them fall, crashing into her bin.

"Natasha! What's that racket? Come downstairs now! You'll make us late!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled from her bedroom back at her Father. She then stormed out of her room, making sure to close the door behind her with a loud bang.

Once downstairs she flounced out of the front door as quickly as she could, considering she had to hold her skirt down. If her skirt blew up her Father might notice that she was wearing her homemade crotchless panties. Her peculiar behavior earned her a reproving glance and a shake of the head from her Father, but she'd rather endure his disapproval than put them both through the horror of exposing her privates. Whilst she had a thirty second lead on him she also rushed to bundle herself into the passenger seat before he could get anywhere near the car.

"What's wrong with you this morning?" her befuddled Father asked her when he sat beside his daughter in the driver's seat.

"Nothing," she mumbled.

He sighed at her petulance, but did not follow up with any further questions. There was something wrong, other than that she felt extremely uncomfortable sitting next to her Father in crotchless panties and a short skirt, but it was not anything that she could tell her father about. She'd wanted to look her absolute best for Raw today. Dean would be looking out for her, and she wanted him to love how she looked.

"Stop biting your nails," her father ordered.

Natasha had not even realized that she had been biting her nails. Was she really that nervous about what would come after Raw?

She had never been spanked before, not by her parents when she was a child or by any of her previous boyfriends. She didn't have a very high pain threshold either. The few smacks to her bottom that Dean had given a week ago had hurt a lot, so Natasha really wasn't sure what to expect from Dean tonight. He had talked big, saying that she'd remember it for her entire life and that it would ruin her for other men, but it could have been just that: talk. He was a very confident man and clearly had no trouble with meeting women, so he was probably just inflating his ego with those statements.

But what if he had been serious…?

"Natasha! Nails! Quit it!" her father's voice snapped her back to the present.

"Sorry, Daddy. I'm just anxious. I'm meeting that boy again tonight and I wanted to look my best for him, but nothing seemed to be working." She crossed her arms and pouted.

"You look beautiful, princess, and I bet that strapping young lad will see it, too."

"I hope so." She had thankfully been able to deflect the subject from conversation, but it was still eating at her. She took some deep breaths and kept telling herself that it would be fine, it would be great.

Hours later Natasha awoke to a text from the man that had been on her mind all day.

"Stay in your seat when Raw ends. Security will take you to me. See you later."

The text brought a smile to her lips, a part of her feared he would forget he was meant to be seeing her tonight as she hadn't heard from him all day. She was worried about the spanking, but she was looking forward to everything else.

She had napped for a bit so that she wouldn't be too tired for the long night that she expected to have in front of her. She didn't dare accidentally fall asleep while he had her in a precarious position. She trusted him when she was awake…but didn't feel like she could trust him while she was asleep.

After reading his text, she noticed the time.

"Oh goodness! I need to get ready and head to the arena!"

* * *

The show was a good one. She didn't bring a sign this time since she didn't need to draw attention to herself. Dean already knew she would be there. When the Shield's music hit, she couldn't help but blush. When they were pacing around the ring after leaping over the barricade, Dean walked past her and smirked as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She felt herself begin to sweat, possibly from the heat of the crowd and the lights, possibly because of the sexy son of a bitch in front of her.

Rather than yell and cheer for him as she had on Friday night her reaction to him was much more subdued. She stayed in her seat, making sure to keep her thighs pressed together, and followed his movements intently. She allowed herself to get lost in him and effectively blocked out everything else that was happening until the next match came on and she was back to her normal self.

All too soon the show came to an end and the arena was emptying out around her, the only fans that remained were her and the minority who had stayed to watch some wrestlers fooling around in the ring. But when the ring finally emptied, it was theirs and Natasha's cue to leave too. When she noticed a security guard approaching her, she realized she was one of the very few people still sat firmly in their seat, so she squeaked out her excuses.

"I'm waiting for someone to escort me to see a friend!"

"I know, I'm escorting you," he said.

"Oh," she said quietly. She suddenly felt a rush of anxiety come over here. She hadn't noticed how nervous she had felt while she was lost in the excitement of the show.

She followed the guard into the back of the arena. There were still many people running around backstage, cleaning up and loading the trucks so they could head out to the next city. Natasha was a bit star-struck. She had never seen the behind-the-scenes workings of a wrestling show and it stunned her. So much work went into it!

They continued down a long hallway and she could hear several male voices echoing through it. The guard stopped in front of a heavy looking door. "This is the men's locker room. I was asked to leave you here and that you'd know what to do. Have a nice night, ma'am."

Honestly, Natasha wasn't sure what to do. Was she allowed to go into the locker room to go see Dean? Was she supposed to wait out here for him? She was twiddling her thumbs and worrying about what to do when the door suddenly swung open. Quickly remembering the state of her underwear she snapped her legs together and slowly looked up to be greeted by the sight of the tall Englishman, Bad News Barrett, exiting the locker room.

"Oh, hello!" she said.

He looked down at her, not having known that she was there. A smile stretched across his mouth once he realized who she was and he stopped to lean against the wall next to her.

"You're…um…you're not here to give me any bad news, are you?"

"No, I hadn't been planning on it." He leaned down so that his face was very close to hers. "Unless that's something you want from me."

Natasha laughed nervously. "No thanks. Erm, is Dean in there?"

"He is," he smiled knowingly.

"Oh well good! He told me to meet him here."

"I know."

Barrett continued to smile and stare at her. Then his eyes flicked over her body and he smiled even wider.

"Ohhh, I feel a bit sorry for you"' he said when he looked back up at Natasha's anxious face. "Come on love, I'll look after you." He gently put a hand on her elbow and turned her to see a wooden bench. "Sit down here while you can, eh?" He laughed throatily and opened the door of the locker room whilst Natasha took a seat. "Oi! That girl's ere!" he shouted through the gap.

"OK!" Natasha heard Dean yell back, making her heart leap in her chest.

"Is that our little friend?" someone then said, which gave Natasha another shock to her annoyance. She wasn't usually so jumpy.

She looked up to see that CM Punk had joined Barrett.

"Hello Sweetheart, it's nice to see you again! That's a pretty skirt you're wearing," he smirked.

"Thank you, Mr. Punk," she replied. She tightened her legs together even more and put her hands on her knees. She suddenly felt embarrassed to see these men again, remembering how the last time she had seen them, she had been buck naked and doing some very vulgar things.

"I know, right? Makes me wish he was letting us watch tonight," Barrett said with a groan.

"Oh, we'll be alone?" Natasha asked quietly, but both men ignored her.

"Well, he has spanked some girls in front of us before, but those were usually just some random sluts who came to him, begging for a spanking." Punk turned to look at Natasha, then back at Barrett. "He must have something special in store for this one, I guess."

Her eyes widened upon hearing Punk's words.

"Anyway, I gotta go catch up with AJ. 'Night, man."

As Punk left, Natasha felt a little sick to her stomach. That man could sit in a room and watch random girls have sex with his friends while he had a girlfriend? How was that not considered cheating? Did AJ know about this?

Before she could get too much into her head, the door opened again. She looked up, hoping that it was Dean, but it was Seth and Roman.

"Big night tonight, little girl?" Seth asked with a cheeky grin.

"You are looking mighty fine tonight," Roman said with a wink.

Natasha didn't know who to answer first. But she was saved from answering when Seth then said to Barrett, "You're still here?"

Natasha looked up at Barrett. He was still looking at her, but slowly averted his eyes to Seth.

"I'm going now. I'm knackered," he said, stretching his arms in the air above his head. "But you were a sight for sore eyes." He then pinched Natasha's cheek which made Seth and Roman laugh. "Goodnight boys ... and young lady," he said with a wave and took his leave.

"I bet her ass looks good in that skirt," Natasha heard Roman mumble to Seth as she watched Barrett walk away. Though Roman looked at her his comment was clearly intended for Seth to respond to, not Natasha.

"Oh yeah, she's nice and tight!" Seth said enthusiastically, "Did you wear that especially for your spanking?" he then directed at her.

"What?" Natasha said softly, feeling her face become hot.

"Yeah, do you like the thought of getting your skirt flipped up?" Roman asked over her hushed tones.

"Leave her alone."

Natasha turned at the sound of that familiar voice, glad to find that Dean was rescuing her. At least she had thought so until she saw the grin on his face.

"Hey," she still greeted him, regardless of the slight mockery she could see in his eyes. He did not return the greeting.

"Did you drive here tonight?" he asked her.

"No, Mr. Ambrose. I got a cab."

"I think we have room for a small bum in the car," he smiled.

"I don't care how small her bum is, I don't think she'll be able to fit inside that small rental, Dean." Cesaro had appeared behind him, clapping his large hand onto Dean's back.

"No problem. She can sit in my lap." He winked at her and she swore she could actually feel the blood rushing to her pussy. It had felt so good when he sat her in his lap before, but it had been interrupted by the drunk girl passing out.

"I…I would like that," she said quietly. She thought no one would hear here since they had ignored her every other time she spoke that night, but they apparently decided to hear her this time.

"Oh really?" Dean eyed her skirt and his smirk grew bigger. "With you in that skirt, I think I'd like that, too." He looked at the other guys. "You heard the woman! Let's get out of here so we can give her what she wants."

The four men laughed as they left with Natasha trailing behind them.

Once by the car the men started to pile in, leaving Dean and Natasha to get in last.

"Park your ass here then," Dean said, patting his thigh after he sat down. Then he pulled her into the car and onto his lap.

Once he had her in place he wrapped his arms around her middle tightly.

"Nervous?" he whispered in her ear, his lips were so close that they brushed her ear when he spoke. Natasha nodded as Dean rubbed his right hand up her bare thigh and under her skirt. "Hmm…but excited?" he asked, and then his hand reached her crotch and he stroked her pussy that was poking through her panties. She nodded again. "Oh, you dirty girl! You actually wore them! Fuck…I'm going to spank you so hard," he whispered.

"What are you saying to her?" Cesaro asked, who was sitting beside them.

Dean quickly withdrew his hand from under her skirt, but not until he had given her pussy a squeeze.

"Nothing, man," he said, but he couldn't hide the cheeky grin on his face.

"Really? You're going to act all discreet now? You won't let us sit in on the spanking tonight and now you won't tell us what you said to her?"

"A gentleman has to keep some things secret."

The three other men groaned and laughed. "Right, because you're a fucking gentleman!" Seth said, glancing back at Dean in the rearview mirror.

"You're the biggest whore I've ever met, buddy. Seriously, how many chicks have you banged since we got to the main roster _alone_?" asked Roman.

"Do you really think I'd remember the exact number? How about a fuck ton?"

His hands began to wander along Natasha's waist and she felt one of his big hands gently cup her breast. A tiny moan escaped her lips.

"Oh you like that?" he teased her. "I think I like it, too."

Then Dean pressed her harder onto his lap and pushed his hips up to rub his erection against her backside. She tilted her head back and rested it on his shoulder. She subconsciously began to grind her hips into his lap, wishing that they were alone and she could feel him inside of her right now.

"You're a horny little bitch, aren't you?" he purred at her after she moaned again.

"Easy now. I'm trying to drive and this isn't a stick shift, if you know what I mean," Seth said. When Natasha looked up she saw that he was looking at them through the rear mirror. His eyes looked hungry and she suddenly felt self-conscious.

"Don't," Natasha said softly and moved Dean's hand away from her breast in embarrassment.

"Why?" he mumbled in her ear so no one else could hear.

Natasha had nothing to hide anymore, but there was something embarrassing about being watched in the car.

"I'm not in the mood," she lied. It was the most unconvincing excuse she could have come up with, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Dean moved his head back to frown at her.

"You're a terrible liar, but suit yourself. That was the nicest I was gonna be to you all night. You should have made the most of it," he said, not even trying to keep his voice down.

"You're a hard man," Roman commented.

"She's gonna find out just how hard," Dean said, looking at her, to which all the men tittered.

For the rest of the journey Natasha was not teased by Dean's hands or words, but regardless, she could still not stop thinking of her upcoming spanking.


End file.
